A desert for forty years is possibly the only thing worse than a fucked-up island for the past sixteen. The Friend of Jesus could very well *be* Jesus to Danielle at this point if he's offering modern luxuries. Pizza. Mon Dieu, did he say *pizza*??

It's a trick. Too many ways to easily poison food. It's a hallucination. Maybe she's finally lost her mind. She tries to keep her voice steady.

"I am... fine, thank you. I just need to know where I am."