Luther found himself taking in the entirety of Joan for the first time, minutes into their meeting, though he supposed his tardiness could be excused by the fact that he'd first encountered her in the middle of a life and death situation with zombies. He noticed then, that she was very exotically beautiful, and as an afterthought, that she had a chunk of...something on her cheek.

He looked away as she moved to wipe it clean, clearing his throat and rubbing at the bridge of his nose with a fingertip as he battled his own urge to gag. The sight of that brain matter or whatever it was riding the jut of her cheekbone brought back a crystal clear memory of what it'd sounded and looked and smelled like when Joan had split that walker's head open, and that was a little too much for him just then.

Her explanation of the hotel was enough to distract him from any nausea he might've been feeling, and he looked back up at her sharply. Words like "magic" didn't exist where he came from, and science to the nth degree seemed almost equally unfathomable. Still, he was the sort to firmly believe in at least all that he could see, and all that he'd seen thus far was enough to drive home the fact that what Joan said made sense, considering. He didn't know her, but she seemed put together and more than a little reasonable.

"Well, fuck me," he exhaled, rubbing at his forehead as he considered it all. "So... We stuck here? Or does one of these doors lead home, too?"