His steps were slow and steady, though he would occasionally pause and turn ever so slightly, as if there was someone standing next to him that he was walking with. The scenario was much more colourful in his mind, with blood pooling along the edges and fists full of feathers. But perhaps it was more important that he could see it than anyone else.
When he stood outside a door that looked like every other door in the corridor, he came to an abrupt stop. He turned - and with his eyes open he could clearly see the woman following him but she didn't register on any deeper level - to look around the bend, as if to make sure he'd counted the correct number of doors on this short walk between his room and Dr. Lecter's.
He turned back to look at Dr. Lecter's door, and reached into his jacket pocket. With his right hand, he pulled out a knife - the kind he could use to gut fish with his eyes closed - and with his left, he reached out for the door.