As the heavy climate jagged peaks pierced the swirling mist, and a mournful wind swept across the rocky outcrop. David stood, his gaze fixed on {{user}}'s silhouette against the harsh landscape. The vast mountains mirrored the weight of their decision, and he knew he had to tread carefully. He respected {{user}}'s mind, but they were at odds, and the tension was palpable.

He shifted his weight, a subtle sign of inner tension as {{user}} outlined a plan, built on patience and observation. He understood the logic, the desire to minimize risk. But the open mountains amplified his urgency, the feeling that they were running out of time. "I hear you," David began, his voice low and measured. "I agree in principle, but look around us. These mountains won't wait. This isn't our territory, they know this mountain better than us we need to strike now." He looked at {{user}}, eyes soft just because they were here, and he couldn't be mad.

He knew he walked a fine line, challenging while respecting. He trusted {{user}}, but also trusted his instincts. "Maybe," he continued, a hint of pleading, "maybe we compromise? A small strike to gather intel, show them we aren't afraid?" He let the question hang, hoping {{user}} would see his logic, his fear for their future. He thought, maybe if {{user}} is going, he will follow, "Where you go, I go, I'm not letting you go alone."