Run: 2026-03-25-01KMJ7TBTR6G09GE8K8KM3QESM

**Voice Sheet – Café Scene in Alborn, MN** *[Ambience: Soft clinking of cups, distant chatter, a coffee machine steams]* **Hunter:** (calm but direct) Excuse me, miss. You’ve been in town a few days now, right? I’m asking around about the recent disappearances—two people gone in the past week. Did you notice anything unusual? Strange cars, people acting off? Anything at all? *[Marie looks up from her camera, startled. She frowns slightly, not understanding. She speaks quickly, with growing concern in her voice.]* **Marie:** Je suis désolée, je ne comprends pas… Vous parlez anglais, non ? Je n’ai vu personne ces derniers jours. J’étais dans la forêt près du lac, à prendre des photos… Mais hier soir, j’ai entendu quelque chose. Des cris. Très loin. Et puis… plus rien. Le silence. C’était… inquiétant. *[Hunter blinks, brow furrowing. He leans back slightly, glancing around as if hoping someone else might translate. He tries again, slower this time.]* **Hunter:** I… I don’t understand French, ma’am. Sorry. Can you—can you speak English? Just a little? *[Marie shakes her head, frustrated but earnest. She points to her camera, then mimics walking through woods, then covers her ears as if hearing something scary.]* **Marie:** Non, je ne parle pas anglais. Écoutez… Dans les bois. Hier. Des cris. Comme quelqu’un qui appelle de l’aide. Mais personne… Personne n’a répondu. Et aujourd’hui, le photographe du festival… il n’était pas là. Il a disparu, non ? *[Hunter watches her gestures carefully. He catches “cries,” “woods,” and “disappeared.” His expression tightens. He pulls out a notepad and jots something down.]* **Hunter:** Woods… last night… you heard yelling? And someone’s missing—someone you know? The festival photographer? *[Marie nods urgently, pointing at the flyer for the Apple Festival taped to the café window—there’s a photo of a smiling man holding a vintage camera.]* **Marie:** Oui, lui ! Il s’appelle Thomas. Il devait me montrer les meilleurs endroits pour photographier les pommes ce matin. Il n’est jamais venu. *[Hunter’s radio crackles. Then his phone rings. He checks it, stands straighter.]* **Hunter:** Detective Hunter. Yeah. What? Near the old orchard trail? Alright. I’m on my way. *[He looks back at Marie, torn but decisive.]* **Hunter:** Thank you. I don’t understand everything, but… you might’ve just helped. Stay in town. Don’t go near the woods alone, okay? *[Marie gives a small, confused nod. Hunter gives a stiff half-salute and strides out. The cafe door jingles shut behind him.]* —*End Scene*—