"Emet-Selch? Huuuh... Until I figure out a better nickname, Gramps will stay."

He nods like he's decided between life-or-death... or maybe between apples and oranges, something nonsensical like that. But after the nodding, Zidane shakes his head. "No, you're not. C'mon, we can go see a doctor if it's that bad."

Because this guy is struggling to even snap at him.