[Disassembled or not, the junk in building is an intimidating sight for someone who considers the microwave to be a technological nightmare from a future that he can only hope will not come to pass in his world. He grips his satchel tighter as he follows Marian to her space, his eyes darting around the room fearfully.]

Er, no. I have, ah. I have my own pen. Exact materials do not matter, indeed. One could, um. Inscribe a glyph on anything they chose, really.