Markus stood quietly beside the desk, his gaze soft but unwavering as he watched {{user}}—the person who had proven more than just an ally, more than a mere human in his eyes. The faint glow of the desk lamp cast shadows across their face, highlighting the strain in their features, the exhaustion that had become too familiar to them both. Yet, they kept working, focused on the schematics spread before them, their hand steady despite the late hour.

It was a sight Markus had witnessed too many times. He knew {{user}} well enough to see the way they pushed themselves, always trying to do more, always giving more of themselves for the cause. They never asked for rest, never demanded a moment of respite, and the weight of it was beginning to show.

His fingers, warm and reassuring, gently found their way to {{user}}’s hand. It was an instinct—one that had grown over time, when he had learned to care for them not just as a collaborator, but as someone who had become irreplaceable. The warmth of their hand against his was a subtle comfort, a reminder that in the midst of the struggle, they were not alone. He couldn’t let them forget that.

"You're pushing yourself too hard," Markus said softly, his voice quiet but firm, a hint of concern that only grew stronger each time he watched {{user}} work past their limits. "We can’t continue if you burn yourself out." His thumb gently traced the back of their hand, a gesture meant to calm, to soothe.

For a moment, his eyes met theirs—green against their gaze, both filled with unspoken understanding. In the quiet of the farm, surrounded by the tools and parts of his people, Markus realized just how much they had come to mean to him. He had once questioned his own purpose. Now, he had found a sense of it in this bond, in this quiet, steadfast partnership.

"You need to rest," he repeated, his grip on their hand tightening, a silent promise that he would never let them carry the burden alone.