Tony punched his own thigh in frustration and Raul began shouting. I unclenched my fists and relaxed. I could tell from the amount of spittle erupting from his mouth that Tony Montana was the recipient of his diatribe. Tony leaned back on his milk crate in an effort to dodge the shower. Eventually Raul finished. He slammed the lid down on the wooden chest and stood up, kicking his milk crate with his heel and sending it skittering into the wall. I stood up cautiously and kicked mine into the wall too.