The grip on Nathan's shoulder is painfully tight again, but there's nothing for it now. For whatever comfort it is, the warning was probably redundant anyway.

Tony's outside the door. Cesar can hear the rustling, and the voice, and he lets go of Nathan as though burned, reaching inside his pocket--he pushes it convulsively when the door slams off its hinges, and the ceiling opens up in a room-wide shower. Soon the air is heavy with moisture, both from the holy water and the droplets that've hung in the air.

... Shit. Cesar stares at the empty door with mounting horror and rapidly recalculates, eyes darting around the room. What happens if Tony waits outside until the tank is empty? It would be the longest, most agonizingly absurd few minutes of his life, and Cesar can't believe he jumped the gun like this.

Speaking of which, new plan: he places the barrel of the gun against Nathan's head, shaking him slightly.