Grey didn't wait for an answer because, honestly, he had never expected it to be that easy.
Atlas, whoever the fuck he actually was, probably couldn't even see what was happening here, and if his situation was anything like Prometheus', there was a good chance he couldn't communicate nearly as freely as the angel lady could either.
Grey had been by Prometheus' side for long enough now to understand that there was something fundamentally strange about how Spirits like them operated, because the little red-gold flame was definitely connected to something much larger, but a lot of what it did seemed to happen on instinct and feel rather than through anything Grey would call conscious thought.
