Run: 2026-03-18-01KM079AMEYM56WQH6MXDP0XKE

**Voice Sheet: Café Conversation** *(Scene opens with the hum of a small-town café. The scent of fresh coffee fills the air. MARIE sits at a corner table, her camera resting on the table, fingers tracing its edges. She glances out the window, uneasy. HUNTER, dressed in a worn leather jacket, strides in, his boots clicking against the wood floor.)* --- **HUNTER:** *(approaching Marie’s table, voice gruff but polite)* Afternoon. Mind if I join you? **MARIE:** *(startled, looks up, shakes her head slightly, then gestures to the empty seat)* Euh… non, non. *(fumbles with the camera strap)* Asseyez-vous, s’il vous plaît. *(Hunter nods, pulls out the chair, and sits across from her. Marie keeps her hands on the camera, knuckles white.)* **HUNTER:** You look like you’ve seen something strange. You from around here? **MARIE:** *(hesitant, switches to French, voice shaky)* Je… je ne parle pas anglais. *(glances at Hunter, then quickly looks away, as if regretting the admission)* **HUNTER:** *(blinks, then shrugs, switching to slow, deliberate words)* Oh. Uh, *bonjour.* I’m Hunter. *(mimes speaking, then realizing it’s not working, sighs)* Right. Look… I’m trying to figure out what’s going on in this town. People keep disappearing, and— **MARIE:** *(cuts him off sharply in French, eyes wide with fear)* Disparu? *(hands trembling)* Vous parlez des disparitions récentes ? **HUNTER:** *(nods, sensing her urgency)* Yeah. Three people in the last two weeks. No signs, no notes, just… gone. You know something? *(Marie’s breath catches. She clutches her camera like a lifeline, her knuckles bone-white. After a long pause, she speaks rapidly in French, her voice a whisper.)* **MARIE:** Je… j’ai vu quelque chose. Hier soir. Près de la rivière. Une lumière— *(gestures vaguely with her free hand)* —et puis… des voix. Mais quand je suis allée voir, il n’y avait personne. Juste… des traces. *(Hunter watches her intently, though he only catches fragments—“river,” “light,” “voices.” His expression darkens.)* **HUNTER:** *(leaning in slightly, voice low)* Where’d this happen? Near the old bridge? **MARIE:** *(nods fervently)* Oui! Le vieux pont! Mais… *(shakes her head)* Je ne sais pas quoi cela signifie. Peut-être… peut-être que c’est rien. *(her voice wavers)* **HUNTER:** *(pulls out his phone, taps it thoughtfully)* Listen, I need you to come to the station later. Draw me a map, tell me exactly where you saw this. Even the smallest detail matters. *(Before Marie can respond, Hunter’s phone rings—an insistent, buzzing tone. He glances at the screen, sees the caller ID, and his jaw tightens.)* **HUNTER:** *(standing up abruptly, tucking the phone to his ear)* Yeah? *(listens, then curses under his breath)* Be right there. *(Marie flinches at his tone. Hunter grabs his jacket, shooting her an apologetic look.)* **HUNTER:** Gotta go. But—I’ll be in touch. *(points at her camera)* You take pictures of *everything* weird from here on out, you hear me? *(Marie nods quickly, but her eyes are haunted. Hunter hesitates for a second, then turns and strides out, phone still pressed to his ear. The café door swings shut behind him with a clang.)* **MARIE:** *(whispers to herself in French, voice barely audible)* *Pourquoi ici… Pourquoi maintenant…* *(She looks down at her camera, then slowly flips the screen to show a recent photo: a dimly lit riverside path, faint footprints in the mud, and… a single discarded glove.)* **FADE OUT.**