Foster jerks in surprise at the sound of his name, and almost sets the phone aside--notably, on the opposite side from Ginko--before catching himself and thinking better of it.

"Yeah, good question." He keeps hold of the phone, but twists around to face Ginko on the bed, his other hand planted on the quilt for balance. With his phone that far away, Ginko will probably never find out what Foster was looking at--or who he was talking to.

"What the hell is this?" He doesn't actually have to ask. Because from where he's sitting, the past couple of hours have painted him a pretty clear picture. But he wants to hear it from him. He wants to hear those words come out of Ginko's mouth. Maybe it's petty, maybe it's... maybe he's making this personal.

Well, maybe it is personal.

This? Is not the Ginko he knows.

This is fae bullshit.

Again.