...What makes you think you know me better than I do?

[There's a lot Ginko isn't sure of about himself. Half the time when someone asks him what he wants from a situation, he can't even tell them.

Maybe that's why, when he does know why he did something and what he expected from it, he doesn't appreciate other people trying to tell him that he's wrong.

But there's no point to trying to correct him. Because it's Foster. Ginko rests his chin on his arms, his ears drooping, and stares into the green slime-water.]

I screwed up. [He's already said that, he's pretty sure.] Whatever I had intended. So, now, I'm asking you what I'm supposed to do. Because even if--

[God, he hates saying this right now, it makes him feel like such a piece of shit, but it's the closest he can get to helping Foster--] Even if you're obnoxious and your ideas are generally pretty awful, you seem to have a better idea of what I'm supposed to do here than I do. And I don't know if you're saying I should... just go ahead and sleep with him, or talk to him about this, or what.