Romelu Lukaku did not need to cup his ear, did not need to raise a finger to his lips, did not need to respond.
Everton supporters know they are on a hiding to nothing in a fight with Lukaku.
Everton supporters, along with most Premier League defences.
Lukaku’s switch to Manchester United was the sort of blindingly obvious decision taken by a certain, albeit younger, Wayne Rooney back in 2004.
Thirteen years later, now an honest but limited grafter, Rooney re-appeared at Old Trafford as a symbol of its past.
Lukaku is the muscular, intimidating symbol of its future.
One of Jose Mourinho’s early acts on his return to Chelsea in 2013 was to allow Lukaku to move to Goodison Park on loan.
Four seasons on, Jose, one of the finest judges of a player’s maturity and character, deemed Romelu ready.
Ready to lead men, ready to lead an elite team, ready to shoulder the responsibility of being the striking focal point for one of the world’s greatest clubs.
Nothing that has happened in the opening five games of the Premier League season suggest Mourinho was wrong.
Lukaku will have better games but he now looks a bona fide, blue-chip footballer, the rough edges smoothed with every strike.
It bears repeating that United have had some flat tracks in their early programme and no-one bullies on a flat track with more brutality than Lukaku.
But there has been a maturity to his all-round contributions that suggest he is taking that step into rarefied, elite territory.
The maturity was best captured when, after an Ashley Williams aberration late in proceedings, Lukaku found possession at his beloved left foot, striking distance from atoning for a first half sitter-miss.
A shot seemed a given. Instead, he rolled the perfect, simple pass into the path of Henrikh Mkhitaryan, loitering in formality territory.
The lead earned by Antonio Valencia’s early beauty, a volley from range that fizzed and moved like a firework, had been doubled and the contest was over.
It would have been a heinous error had Lukaku not made the assist but it was a quietly accomplished piece of unselfish play all the same.
Good deeds are normally rewarded and so it proved when Lukaku, with more technical excellence than will be recognised, sidefooted his seventh United goal after his own woeful free-kick had kicked off an unseemly build-up.
Everton, physically as well as mentally spent by this point, completed their collapse when Morgan Schneiderlin spoiled Anthony Martial’s endeavours with a hand.
Martial laid down his own penalty law and despatched United’s fourth with zero fuss.
Once again, this exciting United edition had put an opponent to the late sword.
Once again, Mourinho looked like a coach trying to shut up shop but finding his players too adventurous to take much notice.
That is why there is a different vibe around Old Trafford. An expectant one.
This might not have been the sort of mesmeric exhibition Manchester City gave at Vicarage Road but it was another effective and ultimately emphatic performance.
Everton, after an unforgivably negative start, had their moments and David de Gea had to put his frame in the way of a couple of snatched efforts from Rooney and Gylfi Sigurdsson.
The simple fact, though, is that, for all Everton’s transfer activity in the summer, the departure of one player has left a hole more vacuous than maybe even those who bated and whistled in the away end could imagine.
And the arrival of one player might yet have a more transformative effect than maybe even those who saluted him in the home stands could imagine.
He did not need to cup his ear, did not need to raise a finger to his lips.
Romelu Lukaku is the big noise now.