For a split second, the corners of Vincent's mouth curve up. Just a bit. He reaches over with his left hand, letting the metal claw tips catch the handle and manipulate the latch. But it shouldn't be a surprise he could do something this basic; he'd proven he was very dexterous with the gauntlet in his actions leading up to now.

"After you."

The small flecks that might transfer can be washed off later. Maybe a bowl should be grabbed next time, come to think.