This is a nightmare. This is every oblivious pain-in-the-ass client he's struggled with combined, except now he's the one who's sick and this guy is just.... Ginko doesn't know what he's doing. Trying to figure it out might make him pass out right now.

For much the same reason he doesn't try too hard to understand this grown man's sun-staring decisions, Ginko does not say all that. Instead he growls under his breath - barely a growl so much as a low, rumbling sigh, like a big tired dog who happens to be gargling rocks. "Troll problem. Could-- you help?"

He is, admittedly, not hopeful at this point, but he figures he's got a better chance if he asks directly.