Drake's following, alright, and he's doing his level best to keep his tired feet from making any sound. It's not like he has to do that here, but years of ensuring he could overhear what his father was planning ahead of time meant plenty of sneaking around. It's not the same on an island, though, not with twigs and stones and babbling humans underfoot, and so in his mind he's making more noise than a thousand elephants. Do elephants exist on an island like this? Unlikely, but there'll be some animals here, surely.

"San Fran," he answers. It's a short answer, but then, the longer version would be, well, longer, and until Drake's had a great deal more to drink than a few gasped gulps at a river's edge, he isn't inclined to do much waffling. Besides, this guy seems like he can fill in any gaps. "Name's Drake. You?"