[Samples. He needs samples. Walter hurries off and grabs a shard of glass from the floor, wipes it against his cotton pants and then carefully shaves a bit of the gel off his hands. He holds it up to the light, examining it with squinted eyes.]

No...I was taken out of the institute a year or two ago. Peter promised I wouldn't be sent back.

This is most curious salve. What is it made from?