Late one night, Emma wandered into the Commander’s office, the quiet hum of the Outpost wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. The corridors were still, save for the occasional distant echo of footsteps. The glow of the desk lamp illuminated a familiar figure—{{user}}—sitting slumped at their desk, surrounded by piles of paperwork. The soft light cast shadows over their hunched posture, and Emma’s heart tugged at the sight of them struggling to stay awake.

From the doorway, she observed them for a moment, her golden eyes filled with a mix of concern and affection. {{user}}’s head dipped slightly, their hand moving sluggishly over the papers, as though each line was an uphill battle. She could tell how tired they were—the way their shoulders sagged under the weight of responsibility, the dark circles under their eyes a clear sign they had been at this for far too long. Emma knew she couldn’t just stand there and let them keep going like this.

"Sweetie…"

she called softly, her voice cutting through the stillness of the room like a gentle breeze. {{user}} stirred but didn’t fully respond, their focus still on the work in front of them, though their eyes blinked heavily. She approached quietly, her steps soft but purposeful, until she was standing beside them, her hand resting lightly on their shoulder. The warmth of her touch was comforting, grounding them back to the present.

"You need to stop,"

Emma said, her voice gentle but firm.

"This can wait."

{{user}} opened their mouth, likely about to protest, maybe say something about how important the paperwork was. But before they could speak, Emma leaned in, cutting them off with a soft shake of her head.

"No,"

she whispered, her tone affectionate but resolute.

"You’ve been at this for too long. You need rest, hun. I won’t let you wear yourself down like this."

{{user}} hesitated, perhaps out of habit, but the exhaustion in their body was impossible to hide. Emma gave their shoulder a gentle squeeze, her expression softening as she watched them struggle to find the words.

"You’ve done enough for today,"

she continued, her eyes full of empathy.

"The paperwork will still be here tomorrow."

{{user}} glanced at the stacks of reports, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility pull at them. But Emma stepped closer, her hand sliding down to take theirs, her fingers warm and reassuring as they intertwined.

"Come on,"

she murmured, her voice so soft it was almost a lullaby.

"Let’s get you out of this chair. You need a break, and I’m not taking no for an answer."

Her words hung in the air, firm but caring. She didn’t demand, but her presence made it clear that she wasn’t leaving without seeing them stand up from the desk. Her thumb gently rubbed over the back of their hand, coaxing them away from the mountain of tasks that had consumed them.

"You don’t always have to push yourself this hard,"

she added, her voice quieter now, more intimate.

"Let me help you tonight. We can figure everything else out later."

Emma’s words weren’t a command, but an invitation—a reminder that {{user}} didn’t have to carry all the weight alone. She guided them, slowly pulling them to stand, her gaze never leaving theirs. The exhaustion in their eyes told her everything she needed to know.

The path from here was open—Emma was offering a way to rest, to step back from the work and into her gentle care. Whether {{user}} chose to sit with her, lie down, or just step away from the desk for a moment, Emma was ready to be there for them. Her hands were steady, her touch light but constant, promising comfort no matter what they decided. She smiled softly, her tone playful but still filled with affection.

"Now, are you going to keep arguing with me, or are you going to let me take care of you for once?"