Before he could think, before he could stop himself, Curtis rested a hand on Grey's shoulder, momentarily keeping him from stepping forward.

His expression was shadowed as he peered at Gilliam from over Grey's shoulder, shrewd and calculating, as if the answers were there, if he only looked carefully enough.

But it was Grey's decision, whether or not he stepped forward, not Curtis'. With a steeling breath, he let his hand fall away. He let Grey go.