**Voice Sheet: Café Scene – Isabella & Hunter** *(Setting: A cozy, slightly outdated café in Alborn, MN. The scent of cinnamon and coffee lingers in the air. Isabella sits at a corner table, her camera in hand, scrolling through photos on the small screen. The door chimes as Hunter enters, his sharp eyes scanning the room before landing on her. He approaches, his posture rigid, his expression unreadable.)* --- **HUNTER** *(approaching, voice low but firm)* Excuse me, miss. You were at the apple festival last night, right? *(Isabella looks up, startled. Her fingers tighten around her camera. She shakes her head slightly, her dark eyes wide with confusion.)* **ISABELLA** *(in rapid Italian, voice trembling)* Non capisco… cosa vuoi? Io… io non parlo inglese. *(Hunter frowns, his brow furrowing. He doesn’t understand a word.)* **HUNTER** *(slowly, enunciating as if that will help)* Apple festival. Last night. You were there. With the camera. *(Isabella’s breath hitches. She glances down at her camera, then back at him, her expression growing more distressed.)* **ISABELLA** *(Italian, growing more agitated)* No, no… io non so di cosa stai parlando! Ero lì, sì, ma… *(she swallows hard)* ho visto qualcosa… qualcosa di terribile. *(Hunter exhales sharply through his nose, frustrated. He pulls out a small notepad, flips it open, and scribbles something before showing it to her—a rough sketch of a missing person’s face.)* **HUNTER** *(pointing at the sketch)* This man. Have you seen him? *(Isabella’s hands fly to her mouth. She nods frantically, her voice dropping to a whisper.)* **ISABELLA** *(Italian, barely audible)* Sì… sì, l’ho visto. Era vicino agli alberi… e poi… *(she shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears)* è scomparso. Come gli altri. *(Hunter’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t need to speak Italian to understand the fear in her voice. He leans in slightly, lowering his own voice.)* **HUNTER** *(carefully, as if testing the waters)* You saw him disappear? *(Isabella nods, her fingers gripping the edge of the table. She takes a shaky breath before speaking again, her words tumbling out in a rush.)* **ISABELLA** *(Italian, urgent)* Non so come spiegarlo! Un momento era lì, e poi… *(she mimics something vanishing with her hands)* puff. Sparito. Come fumo. E c’era… *(she hesitates, then whispers)* una luce strana. Blu. *(Hunter’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t understand the words, but the way she describes it—*poof*, *sparito*, *luce blu*—sends a chill down his spine. He flips to a new page in his notepad and draws a quick, crude sketch of a blue light. He shows it to her, raising an eyebrow.)* **HUNTER** This? The light? *(Isabella’s eyes widen. She nods vigorously, pointing at the sketch.)* **ISABELLA** *(Italian, relieved he’s understanding something)* Sì! Sì, esattamente! Era come… come un lampo, ma non faceva rumore. E poi lui non c’era più. *(Hunter exhales, rubbing his temple. He’s getting a headache from the language barrier, but he’s piecing it together. He pulls out his phone, taps it a few times, and shows her a translation app. He types: *"Did you see anyone else near him?"* and holds it up.)* *(Isabella reads it, her expression darkening. She shakes her head, then types back in Italian: *"No. Ma ho sentito delle voci. Voci che non sembravano… umane."*)* *(Hunter reads the translation aloud, his voice grim.)* *"Voices that didn’t sound… human."* *(Isabella nods, her arms wrapped around herself. The café feels suddenly colder.)* *(Hunter’s phone rings. He glances at the screen, his expression tightening. He holds up a finger to Isabella—*one moment*—before answering.)* **HUNTER** *(into the phone, abrupt)* Yeah. I’m at the café. What’s the situation? *(A pause. His face darkens.)* **HUNTER** *(gritting his teeth)* Another one? Damn it. I’ll be there in five. *(He hangs up, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He looks at Isabella, his expression unreadable but his tone softer than before.)* **HUNTER** I’ve gotta go. But… *(he hesitates, then pulls a business card from his wallet and slides it across the table)* if you remember anything else—anything—call me. Or come to the station. Alborn Police Department. *(Isabella picks up the card, her fingers trembling. She looks up at him, her voice barely above a whisper.)* **ISABELLA** *(Italian, pleading)* Per favore… stai attento. Quello che sta succedendo qui… non è normale. *(Hunter doesn’t understand the words, but the fear in her eyes is universal. He gives her a curt nod before turning to leave. At the door, he pauses, glancing back at her.)* **HUNTER** *(gruffly)* Stay out of the woods after dark. *(Then he’s gone, the café door swinging shut behind him. Isabella is left alone, the weight of what she’s seen pressing down on her. She clutches the business card tightly, her knuckles white.)* --- **End Scene.**