Well, the faint relaxation stabilizes Syrlya's focus at least--that and the fact that half his team is yelling and clearly doesn't know how to not panic in a crisis situation, so he needs to really steel himself.

"Peridot," He draws his hands back from the mask, looking up. "You can control metal. Help me get this gag off of him. And--free the rest of his head."

Who needs strong fingers when you have magic?