"Let's do it out back, at least.  It's not sensitive, but it's important."  Upon receiving assent from Timothy, he walks his way back.  Working with espers was a trial and a joy, both.  On the one hand, his sleep schedule is never going to recover from being woken up two to three times a night.  On the other hand, he owns a very nice home in downtown Boston and will frequently travel by Ablinger marble.  And the missus never wanted for anything, which was the least he owed her after what he'd put her through.

"I know we texted this morning about the confluence.  Shit's still ongoing, and I know you're still working on the one with the crabs, so I won't distract you with news about the others.  But this is really important."

Uh oh.  "Yeah?  What's up?"  Tim settles gracefully into a wicker lawn chair and leans forwards, hands on his knees.  Is it a problem with Carol?  The MCFRH?  The loans are almost paid off, is that the issue?

Instead of responding, Bill takes a small parcel out of his vest pocket.  It's a small black leather box, which he sets down on the table between them.  He opens it and shows Tim a small bottle of twenty-year-old bourbon and two shotglasses.  He carefully pours each of them a finger while he talks.  "I was looking at your records.  You've saved nine people from permanent crippling, two of them were dungeon espers.  I did the math, and you've taken about nine years of recovery time off all of your patients.  And then there's your dungeoneering."  He delicately hands Tim a shot.  "Sip it.  You've earned a little drink after all of that."

Tim is actually unreasonably embarrassed about all of the praise.  It's not...wrong...but it's embarrassing.  "I'm just eighteen, though."  Curiosity wins and he does take a sip of the burning liquid, though.

Bill grins at the kid.  "Attorney-client privilege.  I won't tell if you don't.  Besides, people build trust by giving each other the opportunity for a backstab, and if you don't backstab, you earn trust.  Now you've got something on me.  I could get disbarred for this."  Although I wouldn't be.

Wellllll....He takes another sip and shudders a little.  This is horrible.  He takes a third sip.  "Well, I won't tell anyone.  Why are you, uh, talking about my track record?"

"Because you have an amazing power, and you've done genuinely great things with it.  You've done all of this in four months, Timothy.  We have two combat espers available for duty because of you.  Every person they save?  They did it because of you."  Bill stares into his bourbon for a moment, savors the aroma.  Takes a sip.  "Think about how many people you're going to rehab over your life.  And that loan you took out?  You could have paid it off already if you'd not raffled off slots to recently-injured first responders.  And closing it off to standard bidding during the Confluence lost you money too."

He sips and savors his drink for a moment.  "You're a good man, Tim.  I want you to be around as long as possible, even if you're not my client anymore.  I'll retire eventually, you know.  But there's no reason you can't be doing good work healing in seventy years, even if you're not dungeoneering anymore.  Folks like that Pendragon girl, they get hurt or they get old, it's all over for them.  You need to play things more carefully than that."

"I."  What do you even SAY to all of this.  "I...I see."

"Look.  I'm in your corner.  I want you to win.  I want you to keep doing the good work you're doing, and I want you to be happy doing it.  I know that...we've had some rough spots."  Really not my finest hour, that.  "But at the end of the day, I'm your agent, and it would be a gross dereliction of my duties to a client to let you kill yourself in the confluence.  Be frosty, be sharp, be damned good at your job - and be gone if the dungeon isn't a good match for your powers, or if shit goes sideways.  Remember, you're running a marathon.  Don't burn out at the starting line, okay?"

Tim's lost in thought, staring at his bourbon.  Then he slowly finishes it.  His eyes water, and his throat burns.  "Yessir.  I - I get it.  Um.  I'm...going to need to think about it, but.  I get it.  I do."

"You got it, Tim.  You need anything?  If not, I should let you get back to your partner."

He thinks about it for a few seconds.  "Not really, no.  I'd like my giant touchscreen, but we're not going to be here for much longer.  Maybe add that to the list of things I get when I travel?"

"You've got it."  Bill texts one of his secretaries.  And...tell Sara I said hi, would you?"  He gets up and proffers Tim a hand to shake.

He takes the hand and hugs the older man after a brief moment of hesitation.  "I will.  Take care of yourself, Bill.  I appreciate everything you do."

And with that, he heads back inside.