A small blush. He had been awaiting a command to begin, and he supposes that is how he's getting it, but it does touch a spark of embarrassment that he might have missed a cue, A calming breath, and it is surprisingly easy to let it become just -- a series of tasks.

A demonstration it is, then. "Slightly different, because they are affixed to the altar a certain way," he specifies. Having that leeway to move his arms and shoulders up while keeping it all attached helps. He holds his wrists up and pulls the chain taut so one hand has enough leverage. His fingers and knuckles curve inward. Most people can do this to a point, but he moves past it, the whole of his palm just seeming to crumple into a point as small as, if not smaller, than his wrist. It is the work of but a moment to twist it free.

He catches the base of the other cuff to keep the weight balanced before repeating the same thing. All done in less than two minutes. It takes half of one and some flexing to get his fingers back where they were before; the joints at rest don't always point in the direction they are supposed to. But he shifts the chain from one hand to the next to get them right.

Then carefully offers the manacles back.

"...I understand they were a liability, but I probably would have been unable to do that if I hadn't been relieved of my gauntlets."