The simple command was foreign to him, but it made him hesitate. Had he been in any other state of mind, he might have questioned and tried to defy it. But in his limbo, he was rather pliant even if his stubbornness wasn't much different from when he was completely lucid.
So he turned around slowly and looked at her - stared, quite inappropriately, as if he was trying to commit her features to a pitch-black canvas and sketch her face with an inkless pen on thin air - but his hand with the knife remained otherwise motionless, dangling limp by his side.