INT. fournio café - DAY Hunter enters the cozy café, spotting Isabella sitting at a corner table. He approaches her, noticing her unsettled expression as she studies the camera in her hands. HUNTER (sitting across from Isabella) Excuse me, miss. habla usted español? Isabella looks up, startled. Her dark eyes are shimmering with tears. ISABELLA (in troubled Italian) Mi dispiace, ma non capisco quarry dice. Hunter frowns, gesturing helplessly at the camera. HUNTER (with inherently gruff charm) That's okay. I guess we'll have to speak English. He pauses, then points a thumb over his shoulder. HUNTER Were you photographing the festival yesterday? Isabella looks more troubled, wringing her hands. She mumbles something in halting Italian, sounding agitated. ISABELLA Nessun - something something pasta.... Hunter stares blankly, not understanding a word. He drums his fingers on the table, waiting for her to continue. After a moment, he extends his hand in an attempt at gallantry. HUNTER Kennedy Hunt, at your service. I'm a detective in town. Isabella hesitantly grasps his hand, but her eyes are distant. She starts to speak in urgent Italian again. ISABELLA Il prete - lui era in vista e... Hunter interrupts her by pulling out his phone, sounding distracted. HUNTER Hold that thought, I've gotta take this. He stands up abruptly and strides out of earshot. Isabella is left sitting alone at the table, looking utterly shaken. FADE OUT.