"Yeah, but food doesn't calm my nerves," Rachel says with a smile, and accepts the sandwich. Cold Kraft singles on white bread - very Fyre Festival. Still, food is food, and at least she doesn't hate the pseudo-cheese.

"I got a decent one," she says, and taps her pocket. "Guy in a suit. He'll probably freak out when he gets to work, but not my problem." She stooped down to stub out the cigarette, dragging it across the concrete before putting the butt in her pocket. Cigarette butts could be checked for DNA, after all, and she didn't want to make it any easier for the Hexies to find her.

She considers the question as she takes a bite of the sandwich. "West, maybe. I've never been to California. May as well check it off the bucket list, yeah?"