Blackfeather Woods Can you turn my power off?

The answer given came as a surprise to the older male, and concern began to slither its way into his system. Outwardly, he showed not even an ounce of what he was feeling, but on the inside his mind was working feverishly in an attempt to come up with a reason to justify the other's actions. Of course, in the end, there was no way to condone the strain the male was putting on himself. It was enough to have the pallid man discreetly quicken his pace, that way he could get ahead and cut the agouti fellow off. The expression that had taken over his features made it clear that he was not permitted to take another step, or else there would be some sort of consequences.

"Well, Mikasi, you're done now," the Inuit voiced, leaving no room for argument. He was a calm individual, quicker to talk information out of another than torture them for it, but he could not stand by and let the other work himself to death. Not only would it harm him physically, but mentally as well. Plus, the harder he worked without rest, the less effective his labour became. He would be quicker to miss things, as well as unlikely to be capable of holding his own against any trespassers. "If you continue like this, all you'll end up doing is making yourself exhausted and possibly even sick." He'd yet to give his own name, feeling it was far more important that he get the other to settle down before doing anything else. If it came down to it, he would use force to restrain the other, even though he was not keen on performing such acts. Even so, if it was necessary, it would be done.