The woman, pale and tense, swallows hard and nods; her hands are shaking, but to her credit she isn't letting it control her. Probably that part will come later. But for now, Shepard takes another swig, caps off the wineskin, and heaves herself to her feet.

"Speaking of which, we need to move. Faster we get back to work, the better," She looks around— right, there's the dog, huge and dark-furred and just as dust-coated as the rest of them, "Here, boy!"

He's a good and obedient hound; he comes to heel without hesitation, and Shepard puts her hand in the fur on his head with real pleasure. So damned satisfying.

"Garrus, you carry the kid, I'll help her," She offers an arm to the woman, who takes it with obvious gratitude, burdened as she is by the clinging limpet of her other child, "C'mon, they should be here soon. We'll get you settled."

It's the work of a few minutes to place the shaken family on a piece of their own garden wall, near the cleared part of the street. If she squints, Shepard can already see the shapes of the medics peeling away from their latest appointment, and heading in their direction, stretcher alongside.

No need for their interference now; let the professionals deal with it. She says the word and the dog is off all over again.