Carol had wanted him to brainstorm with her agent instead of talk about her backlash directly, which is probably normal?  Psych backlashes certainly are some kind of way.  Tim and the agent had talked about what strategies Carol's partners had employed previously, and these seemed to be the big winners, especially not having opinions.

Instead of bringing opinions, Tim had come armed.  He had pad thai, some kind of cheesy wonton thingy, and an order of fried rice(combination meats).  He had four kinds of bread, ten kinds of sandwich meat, seven kinds of cheese, her favorite ranch sauce(thanks, Mike, your advice is much appreciate) and various condiments.  And finally, he had some fried haddock, something that she'd mentioned loving recently.  If she doesn't like anything on this menu, there's always delivery.  And anything she doesn't like, someone  here can eat.  He'd also brought two of every flavor of her favorite sports drink, and if she turned up her nose at all of that there's water and a lesser assortment of soda.  It turns out you can get a pretty okay battery-powered espresso maker commissioned if you make esper money.  You can even make good coffee, if you're willing to make thirty mediocre cups of coffee until you get the hang of using it.  And the DRT team had been tickled pink by an esper making them coffee for a change.  He's got a spare battery and another two-ish pounds of Carol's favorite coffee bean.  Thanks again, Mike.

The guiding tent is set up with the extravagant banquet cunningly concealed in a pair of tubs.  The food, kept warm with unusually fancy tinfoil and a small electric heater.  The drinks are iced.  The espresso machine is cunningly concealed behind one of the tubs.

Tim's down to shorts and a basketball style tank-top.  He's sitting in what can charitably described as a cheap folding chair.  He's got his eyes closed and his ears perked.

I think that's her.  Oh.  Yes.  That's her.

"No, I don't want to fucking deal with any of this.  I fucking cleared these three sectors, no monsters left in them.  No victims, either, so shit the fuck ass if I know where they are.  I've racked up enough goddamn backlash to kill a fucking horse, so if you'll excuse me, SIR, I'm going to go get some guiding before my fucking organs burst out of my chest and kill nine people with shrapnel."

The infuriated esper slams practically rips open the tent flap.  What the fuck good does it do if I can't even slam this piece of shit?  She turns around and seals the flap, top to bottom, with the careful precision of one who knows that they are about to break something if they don't keep a lid on it.  Then she springs back to her feet and stalks towards Timothy.  You're not annoyed at Tim, he's too much of a tiny fucking puppy to even be mad at.  Oddly, the thought comes to her more easily than re-routing her thoughts usually does.  "Give me your hands.  Both of them."

"Yes'm."  Tim has no strong opinions about offering his hands to an irrationally-infuriated esper.  That would go against checklist items #1, #3 and #4.

Lift the shirt, wrap his hands around your waist.  Good thing I got that stupid fucking vest off before.  Hate those things, but I'd hate to get a fucking stinger through my stomach worse.  "I don't get it."  Mmmmhh.  He's lucky he's so good at this.  I'll be fucking pissed if I manage to scare him off.  Reach down, and caress his scalp.  His hair is so lush.  It's fucking wasted on him, he hardly even cares about it but he looks like he could be on a shampoo commercial.  Fucking esper bullshit.

Inquiring chirp?  Surely an inquiring chirp isn't an opinion of any kind, strong or weak.

"Hold me tighter than that.  I'm not made of fucking glass. Timothy."  Half a step forward.  Hand on the back of his head, press his face into her abs.  "I'm a terrible partner.  I know it.  Don't say anything about it, because if you agree with me I'll get pissed, and if you disagree with me, I'll be mad you called me a liar."  Hands drop to his shoulders.  It's so fucking annoying he won't tell me when he's itchy.  I should just start scratching.  Hands curl into claws and gently rake over Timothy's shoulders.  In their path, they leave little trails of slightly-reddened skin.  "You're ridiculous.  The guiding is enough, but I can get guiding from anybody who puts up with me for longer than ten minutes.  We haven't had this much load, but you just.  Do what I need.  It's like you're a fucking seizure dog, but for not pissing me the fuck off.  I don't get it."

What the fuck.  I don't do anything special???  I just plan a strategy out for guiding her and that somehow makes me a cut above the rest?????  Does nobody fucking try trying, somebody must've.  skdjaksldjaksdja that scratching is soooooo nice.  Guiding and scratching is the best.  Maybe her previous partners just have thin skin.  Lips feel a little dry but I can't wet them, I'd be licking her abs.  It's like she's smuggling golf balls in there, this kind of definition is insane.  Wait, you need to acknowledge her or she might feel like you're ignoring her.

Does a...grateful chirp sound like an opinion?

Not sufficiently opinionated as to make her mad, at least!

"But I just can't get mad at you, unless you do something stupid.  Instead of a seizure detection dog, it's like you're a fucking seizure detecting puppy instead.  Sometimes you fuck up, and I get pissed when that happens.  But when I look at your stupid little puppy face, I just can't be mad at you." He likes the scritches.  God I fucking hate how everything comes out when I'm like this, I can't just say a nice fucking thing.  Deep breath.  Let go.  Enjoy the guiding.

It is such an incredibly good thing that I don't have to look away from her stomach right now because I'm pretty sure I'm about to bruise my face with the force of this blush.  If this were some lousy anime, I'd be bleeding out my nostrils.  It doesn't even make SENSE, you have never once in your life wanted to resemble a puppy in any way shape or form.  It's so fucking deranged???  We should talk about this when she's not backlashed.  Tim's reflexes get the better of him and he licks his lips before speaking.  Some incidental abdominal contact occurs.  "Are you hungry, Carol?"  That's not an opinion.  She gets mad and fights about anything.

Half-strangled 'eep' and a kick of stomach muscles against Tim's face.  Redirect you're not mad at your puppy you're mad at the fact that you're ticklish.  "Don't fucking tickle me."  Am I hungry?  I think I must be.  "Maybe a little.  There anything in these iceboxes of yours?"

Okay.  Great, she's doing great.  I thought it was going to be worse.  "Yes'm.  Do you want a sandwich?"

"Hmmmmm.  Maybe.  What kind of sandwich did you bring?"  I hate that I don't get to fucking choose what kind of sandwich I got, I just get to fucking deal with whatever he decided to bring along.  Probably bought one from that stupid Italian place.

Moment of truth.  "Well, I didn't know what you'd want, so I brought the fixings for it, instead.  I have a ton of toppings.  I've got wheat bread, rye bread, focaccia, white bread.  Salami, roast beef, pepperoni, corned beef, - "

Shit.  He's too fucking thoughtful.  I fucking hate that I can't show him how much I appreciate him thinking ahead.  "Good.  I'll do it myself, so if I get pissed, it's at myself.  Which tub are they in?"  I HATE how I'm tearing up, and I REALLY HATE that nobody else even thought of trying this shit. 

"The.  The left one.  Would you like me to let go of you?"  I mean I should but this is oddly cozy.

"No.  Get behind me.  Wrap your arms around me from behind.  I'll walk over, you stay hugging me.  Stay there while I make the sandwich.  Understood?"  God, it pisses me the fuck off that I just.  Can't.  ARGH.

"Y-yes'm."  That's not a strong opinion.  Timothy is capable of embracing a beautiful, muscled, combat veteran esper from behind and shufflewalking behind her as she reaches the first cooler.  This is the weirdest job on the planet, I swear.

Lean in, fiddle for the clasps I hate how I have my puppy clinging to me from behind and I can't even fucking DO anything about it without getting pissed.  ARGH.  There's the fucking clasp.  Wait a second.  Carol, having popped open the lid of the cooler stares at the contents.  Her voice chokes up.  "Puppy.  Timothy.  How, how FUCKING long did you spend on this?"  Am I a little fucking kid crying that mama bought her a cookie after all, grow the fuck up Carol.  This backlash is the stupidest fucking thing since comment wars.

No strong opinions.  "If you include the planning, maybe two hours?  Twenty minutes to place all the orders, though."

..

Carol.exe is no longer responding.

Okay.  If she's gonna stay like this a little while, it's fine to activate for yourself.  Carefully.  The faster you match ... was that a sniffle?  Is checking on her going to provoke her?  I'll ask her later, for now I'm just going to try to zero her out.

Oh.  That's definitely a sniffle.

This absolute cinnamon roll little PUPPY.  He's smarter than he gives himself credit for, I don't get how.  How someone who thinks he's 'average' does better than two agencies and ALL of my previous partners?!?!  I hate his stupid inferiority complex, I'm going to cure him of it if it kills him.  "Do you know how many people tried this hard to get me guided?  Without getting into a pissing match?"

"N...no?"  It's the obvious thing to try, if you know whatever choice you make will piss her off, you give her the choices.

"Zero!  How don't you - Nevermind."  I hate that I can't just use a NORMAL FUCKING BRAIN CHEMISTRY right now, or whatever it is that espers use instead of brain chemistry.  Probably fairies in bottles or something.  Augh.  "I'm going to make a sandwich, and you're going to stay here."  It's stupid how good guiding feels.  He should just live wrapped around me.

Well, it's not like holding a woman is difficult.  Hard, perhaps, but not difficult maybe when Tim isn't trying INCREDIBLY HARD to not spook his partner.  And has that kind of relationship with her.  If he ever does.