He loosened the drawstring at the edge of the suit’s hood, drew the hood back. "Hold your breath," he said, then unfastened the mask’s straps and removed it. "Okay to breathe." She did, finding the odor of petroleum distillates surprisingly welcome. He unzipped the front of the suit, stepped behind her, and held the fabric at the shoulders, allowing her to shrug her way out. "I’m standing on the edges of the bootees," he said. "Step forward and your shoes will come out." She did.