My nails will be fine. My nail polish, not so much, but I think I'll survive.

[It's a dry bit of sarcasm to lighten the mood, or even calm him down.]

Just keep an eye out for me, okay?

[And then she's heading over to the vat, breathing out, and shoving her fist right through the glass.

It shatters around her hand, cutting it in several places, and she winces and sucks in a long breath as she starts to pull away chunks of glass, trying to stay out of the torrent of liquid and goo that pours out as she widens the hole.]

Ugh, gross.