Luke had no real concept of time since he'd discovered that Kenna had been taken. Even his connection to the moon didn't really help him differentiate one day from the next as he frantically searched. He would never admit aloud why he felt the insistent need to find her pulling at every fiber of his being. He had still yet to acknowledge what was between them, besides the physical. He had still yet to come to terms with what it meant. Or what it could mean, if he let himself acknowledge it. Years spent hating the hunter and everything she represented weren't so easily wiped away, no matter how much Kenna had helped him or tried to make amends. He knew it was obstinate but a part of him worried if he forgave her then he would be acknowledging that his parents had brought at least some of this to their family. His mind always shied away from the thought, as if just allowing it to form burned. Luke was too conflicted to unpack it during the best of times but now? Now there was no hope of logic or thought. Not until he found Kenna.
He had managed to fall asleep sometime in the early morning, or at least that's what he assumed the time was considering the dusty pink hue he'd glimpsed out the window starting to spread over the horizon. So when he heard the insistent knock on his door, Luke's first instinct was to growl and pull a pillow over his head. The sound didn't stop, however, causing a more feral sound to escape him as he climbed out of bed. He didn't bother pulling on a shirt or proper pants, figuring whoever was rude enough to bother him this early didn't deserve the courtesy. As he swung the door open, the bright anger quickly turned to surprise. He recognized Duncan, of course, which meant he also immediately knew what this was about. Or at least in some regard he did. The realization made him wary, though that honestly could have been due to the family the witch belonged to as much as what he likely represented.
Taking the paper, his expression shifted to confusion. "Why would I lie?" he asked, voice gruff from both annoyance and the remnants of sleep that hadn't yet cleared. "Only the guilty have a reason to lie."