Much as he appreciated the Depot Agents and all that they did, over the past few months, Ingo had slowly been losing patience with them.

“While I appreciate the concern on my behalf, I can assure you that it’s unfounded; I intend to take my break as soon as is appropriate.” He told Cloud in October, the third time she’d mentioned lunch over his radio. It could wait another fifteen minutes, once he’d guaranteed this section of the tunnel system was secure; after encountering the Cofagrigus, he felt that ensuring structural integrity had to be their top priority. Cloud had sighed and dropped it, only to raise the matter again, twenty minutes later.

“That’s wholly unnecessary! I may be unable to drink coffee at the moment, but I’m allowed to share a room with it!” He’d called in November, as Josh did a rather spectacular U-turn upon entering the break room, returning with the staff’s order from the local cafe.

“Thank you,” He’d told Ramses in early December, as the man returned from dishing out a temporary ban from the premises. He shuddered at the phantom feeling of the woman’s hand on his middle and drew his coat as far around himself as he could, all but hiding beneath it. “I wish you hadn’t had to do that, but you have my gratitude.”

“Your concerns have been noted,” He’d assured Hank at the peak of the season, as he did what little he could to prepare the staff for a holiday rush that he would spend off-duty. Exhausted, he’d tried to smile at the man-- and failed, per usual-- as he leaned back against the wall for a moment’s respite. “We were already taking vacation time after this shift, but thank you for following up with me.”

“I should hardly be your priority at the moment; there are more pressing matters to attend to.” He’d declared to Isadore in January, as chaos echoed down into the platform from the main station. On some level, he supposed he could understand; they had only just dealt with his would-be attackers, and he… knew he looked rather terrible, but he could and would compose himself. There was no telling what all was going on above ground. Isadore accepted it in the moment, and broke off once they found Emmet in the mess, but he noticed the agent’s eyes on him until the each of the interlopers had been detained.

“A short walk isn’t going to start anything prematurely; these two aren’t disembarking any time soon.” He’d promised Leron mid-February, when their paths happened to cross. He refrained from rolling his eyes as he said it, but only just. While he might not have been as mobile as he would have preferred, he wasn’t going to squander what maneuverability he had left-- and staying cooped up in the employees only areas was getting tiresome.

“I do understand the nature of my condition, Jackie.” He said in March, patience finally sapped. “It doesn’t exactly matter how I spend my time, nor where I choose to wait; nature will take its course. Given the option, I’d like to contribute as much as I can while I’m able.”

“Sure, but isn’t working at a desk killing your back right now? A few battles a week can’t be worth it when you could just work from home.” Jackie shot back at him, and, to be fair, she did have a point. In order to avoid a truly heinous backache at the end of the day, Ingo had to schedule reminders on his Xtransceiver, prompting him to get up and stretch for a few minutes every hour. It didn’t prevent the pain in its entirety, but it was vastly preferable to the alternative.

“It may surprise you, but I find that the challengers are worth the commute.” Ingo demurred, leaning one elbow against the break room table. He never knew what to do with his hands, which was a problem he hadn’t anticipated months prior; they couldn’t rest on his lap, but leaving them to hover in midair was utterly ridiculous, and he staunchly refused to do something so private as set them on his abdomen in a space where just anyone might see.

“You walk here! Isn’t that… a lot?” She pressed, even with her back to him as she dug a water bottle out of the refrigerator.

“Forgive me for saying as much, but your commute-- when you deign to depart from the station-- is substantially longer than ours.” For lack of anywhere better to put it, he rested his other hand next to his elbow and stared her down, waiting for a rebuttal.

She twisted the cap absently, breaking the bottle’s seal. “Yeah, but I’m not the one who looks like they’re about to pop.”

Ingo really didn’t mind blunt sincerity-- he’d grown up anticipating and accommodating for it, in fact-- but there reached a point at which even he grew weary. He set his chin on his hand and droned, “Appearances have little bearing on my ability to do of my job-- or what remains of it.”

“We’re just worried you’re working too hard.” Jackie said, and he was unable to stifle a disbelieving snort.

“With all due respect, how? My current workload consists of battling four times per day, on average, consulting with subway trainers, and doing administrative paperwork. It is, by far, the most relaxed pace on staff.” He argued, but lethargy made its way into his voice, and even though it was from rehashing the same topic yet again, it undercut his point in a disappointing way.

Jackie’s expression changed as he spoke, picking up on the mental fatigue and twisting into something genuinely sympathetic as she said, “You could just go on leave.”

Ingo dropped his face into his hand, rubbing at his temple. He didn’t raise his head to respond-- just spoke to the table, instead. “I’ll take it into advisement, but am unable to make any promises at this time.”

The declaration effectively shut the conversation down, and she only lingered for a minute before heading back to the Doubles Line. In her absence, the break room was silent-- or as silent as a functioning subway station could ever be-- and he shifted his chair back so he had enough room to lean awkwardly forward and rest his head against the table.

On a normal day, the care and consideration offered by the staff were a point of pride-- but after being on the receiving end of it for six months, it made him want to scream.

(Elsewhere in the station, as Jackie made a detour to the nearest recycle can, an anxious shadow found her. Aware of the presence at her back, she sighed and turned, looking him up and down.

“Sorry, boss. I tried, but he’s still as tough to crack as ever.” She said, tossing the empty bottle and holding her hands up in belated surrender. Without meaning to, her lips quirked up in ill-suited humor. “No wonder it’s taking so long, huh?”

“No wonder.” Emmet echoed, flat and unamused; he didn’t see any reason to keep her from her work longer than that, and they parted ways shortly thereafter.

He’d really hoped that an overwhelming consensus from the staff would convince his brother to rest, but it seemed he would have to take matters into his own hands, after all.)