"Kenji, you good sir are awesome, and Tina, you can help Trystan and I with the Styrofoam. Ashira, can you and Zenku will focus on helping Noah with the clay? Afterwards, we'll all work on the labels to get this thing done and pass. Hopefully." Michael pulled out several stiff wicks out of his bag, along with an exact-o knife. He looked to the others, holding up the pen-like knife. "I have a legitimate medical license." Well, that was a lie. He just said that on reflex because he had been confronted with such questions before. Besides, it wasn't exactly<i>legitimate</i>. But hey, an illegal medical professional was still a medical professional. Right?