The cleaner shrugs. "I myself can only do physical stuff. But as for how big, bout a few shells into a troll large."  In what would be a horrible move if she hadn't been very, very heavily implying that the two were already dead, the cleaner points the shotgun at the two and pulls just hard enough that the trigger cocking (probably enhanced) echoes through the relative quiet.<br/><br/>"Anything else to put on the tab?"