"I'm not expecting you to do everything around here. You're allowed to take time off, you know that right?" He wasn't being particularly loud, with your head in his lap and his hand patting your back affectionately, he found it hard to convince you that every single thing on Mother Base didn't fall under your responsibilities. Missions that you weren't good for, chores that didn't require your attention, those things existed and he knew you were stressing yourself out by attempting to do them all. You'd been shot, stabbed and nearly killed half a dozen times because you'd been insisting you could do certain missions that simply weren't in your area of expertise. Now you'd managed to stress yourself out to the point of practically crawling to him like a guilty puppy. He'd known the traits you'd gotten from your lycanthropic nature sometimes carried over to you even when you were human, but he hadn't expected some kind of Golden Retriever " I do the task or die trying" type of thing. "I can go take you off the roster the week, say you're sick. You've done more than enough for just about everyone here."