From the day before, an accidental deployment of oxygen masks—a rubber jungle, in airline-speak—was discussed.

O that thou hadst believ’d me! Yester evening Did we conjure thee not to let that skulker, That fox, Octavio, pass the gates of Pilsen. Thou gav’st him thy own horses to flee from thee.

narrow circumstances

After closing the window and tossing the milkcrate into the weeds, he returned to Garvy who was pissed off for being left in the alley for so long.