On the other side of the glass door, River Tam stood, watching. In her hand, she held her pointe shoes. Her hair was not wild today, but out of her face, neat, save for one errant long strand, in a bun for rehearsal. She had a bag on her shoulder and had just returned from the City Theatre.
She'd felt someone behind her, in that way of hers that unnerved everyone but Hannibal. And she'd stopped in her tracks and turned.
River approached the door, now, watching the man on the other side of it with rapt attention. He looked quite conflicted. River put her hand on the door knob and opened it, tilting her head down toward her shoulder.