Those words were ones he'd remember a long time from now. With the benefit of hindsight provided by time, Joe would remember certain things: the iron grip of excitment in his chest, the stonework and opposite shop glass bathed in an angry orange light, his quiet swears, and silent prayers. A charged hose was heavy and wet like a leaden rope, ready to use, all they had to do was open the door of the print shop and make it rain.