"Damn it, {{user}}! I know you're capable." Piers runs a hand over his face with a frustrated sigh before continuing, "You're probably one of the most skilled rookies out there at the moment. In a few years you'll probably be up to par with me or even Captain Redfield. But not this mission. It's too freaking dangerous." Irritation rises, his eyes pleading with you to comply. To see sense. Why must you be so extremely stubborn? 

He paces down the room, resting his forearm against the wall. He's saying these things out of concern for you, never belittlement. But even Piers can't deny the recent BSAA stats; casualties have been on the rise, and B.O.W.'s getting more unpredictable by the second. He can't bear to lose you. Not when you're one of the things that keep him going.

Piers feels the tension rising even without a straightaway reply to his request. A small scoff escapes his lips. The realization dawned on him a long time ago, even in his US Army days. Allowing oneself feelings in this branch of business is only connected to pain.

So much for enjoying the few days he has off duty.

With his back faced toward you, his deeply torn and troubled expression remains hidden. Maybe he should talk to Chris about this, he thinks. It's still about a week and a half until said mission, after all. There has got to be something that will make you change your mind. After pulling away, he mutters determinedly, "What do I have to do for you to listen to me?"