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+---- Thread: dire engagements (/showthread.php?tid=12038)
RE: dire engagements - Ronin - 09-28-2025
[say]"Well,"[/say] Ronin says with a sheepish smile and a shrug of his shoulders, [say]"if the camera did catch what you say it did, hopefully she won't care that it broke."[/say] And if she's still tetchy about a ghost breaking her stuff, ha, then Ronin will be kind enough to get her a new one. He remains until the crew have gathered the broken parts and the rest of the equipment, following them out without even a glance towards the hall or the rest of the house, dining room included.
[say]"Maybe you were just enthralled by all of the ghostly goings on,"[/say] Ronin figures with a smile over his shoulder. [say]"Don't let it get to you - you did great tonight, even if we had to call it short. And hell, if they don't find anything in this house, it'll be one good fucking episode. Chased out of the house by the house?"[/say] He sucks in a breath through his teeth. [say]"That's a recipe for good ratings."[/say]
Exiting the house, Remi is left alone with Isla as she packs the last of the equipment away, though she's left frowning at the monitor for a few more seconds before she offers the medium a response. [say]"Nah, I think I got it,"[/say] she says, tucking her hair back behind her ear as she straightens up. [say]"A lot of good footage, a lot of shitty footage. And some really weird stuff I can't wait to dig into."[/say]
Grinning, she hefts the bag over her shoulder and breezes by Remi on her way out. [say]"We're going for drinks, if you want to come,"[/say] she calls.
RE: dire engagements - Remi - 09-28-2025
Remi nods vaguely in Ronin’s direction, the movement more reflex than response. The talk of ratings washes over him without landing; he’s on a fixed fee, and right now the house’s aftertaste clings to him more than any promise of viewership. His eyes flick briefly toward Ronin’s grin, then away, as if he’s still trying to climb back fully into himself.
When Isla mentions weird stuff on the footage, his brows lift, a quiet, curious [say]"oh?"[/say] escaping before he can swallow it down. He rubs at the back of his neck as she straightens up, fingers pressing into the tense muscles as though that might loosen whatever’s coiled there. Her offer of drinks hangs between them for a moment while he weighs it, his mouth opening and closing before he politely shakes his head.
[say]"I'm tired,"[/say] he says, voice warm but subdued. [say]"Next time, though. Definitely."[/say]
He watches her go, the bag heavy over her shoulder, before stepping out into the night himself. The air outside is still balmy but feels thinner, the glow from the van casting pale puddles of light on the gravel drive. He lifts a hand to the crew and to Ronin in a small, automatic wave, then heads toward his car. The moonlight falls across the hood like spilled milk as he opens the door. For a heartbeat, it feels like someone is just behind him, no sound, no breath, just a prickle at the back of his neck as he slides into the driver’s seat. He glances at the rear-view mirror and sees only the house, patient and dark, as he pulls away.
—
In the days that follow, attempts to reach Remi to reschedule the rest of the shoot by Isla and then Ronin, begin to stall in strange, quiet ways. Calls ring without answer, and soon Remi's voicemail stops accepting new messages entirely, stating that it's full. Text messages don't show as having even been read, though all are delivered.
Nothing bounces back, but nothing breaks through either.
RE: dire engagements - Ronin - 09-28-2025
The weird stuff Isla has managed to capture on her cameras, as it happens, is the sort of shit that most people would call television gold. It's the sort of shit that has the most diehard fans locking in for years to come, and critics calling bullshit for the same amount of time. What's more (and better) is that the cops that had gone to check out the house had found absolutely nothing by way of wires, electrical equipment or other rudimentary traps, and they deliver the verdict that the house is... well, just that. A house.
And so the attempts to contact Remi begin. And continue. And continue.
Now they've only got one night left of the permit and fuck, Ronin knows he shouldn't pry into someone's employment file, but the guy has just fallen off the face of the earth and he's gonna be the one to make the show if he comes back. Sure, he knows they could spin some tale about how their sensitive medium couldn't bare to return to the haunted house, but fuck, it still won't be as good as Remi being there.
So Ronin rumbles up and parks his motorbike outside the apartment complex where Remi's file had said he lived, tucking his helmet under his arm and jogging up the street to it. It's already 3pm, and if they want to be able to make this happen, he's got to get hold of the medium now.
Without even really seeing the building or the decor or even the state of the neighbourhood, Ronin is already reaching out to press the buzzer for Remi's apartment in the hope that he'll answer that, if nothing else.
RE: dire engagements - Remi - 09-28-2025
The neighbourhood has the sort of charm that only ever shows up in daylight and disappears the second the sun does. Cracked sidewalks, low iron fences that lean just a little too far into the footpath, and that familiar patchwork of graffiti tags and desperate renovation that screams almost-gentrified without quite getting there. The buildings are squat and old, their bricks soot-smudged and tired, windows either caged or cracked.
As Ronin presses the button for Apartment 17. The intercom crackles to life, faint and patchy. A woman’s voice murmurs something—maybe in greeting, maybe just a scrap of static caught mid-breath—before it cuts out altogether with a sharp pop. The silence afterward feels colder than it should.
A second buzz comes. This time, nothing follows it. Not even the static.
Just to Ronin's left, the front door creaks open. A couple steps out, mid-conversation, pausing just long enough to glance at him. Their eyes flick over the helmet, the jacket, the look of someone very much not from here. Suspicion, or just city caution marks their features, but they don't linger. The door groans slowly shut behind them, hinges dragging, latch sticking just enough to make slipping inside easy if you’re fast or lucky.
Inside the entryway, the wall directory flickers under a buzzing light. The names have been half-scraped off or rewritten in fading Sharpie, but one label still stands clear:
Remi Abruzzo—17
RE: dire engagements - Ronin - 09-28-2025
Left standing in the wake of the staticy pop! of a disembodied woman's voice and blinking at the intercom as if it might have anything to say in response to his hey what the fuck expression, Ronin is about to reach out to press the buzzer again when the door jolts open beside him. Flinching and doing his best to hide it, he almost expects Remi to be right there and, when he's faced with an unknown couple instead, he's got little more to offer than the smile plastered across his face.
They leave, and his foot moves casually enough to catch against the door before it shuts again; once the couple are properly out of sight - and he pretends to have a conversation with someone who never properly answered the intercom for posterity - Ronin finally slips inside. Rolling his shoulders - suddenly it's cold and he doesn't know why - and peering at the directory, he wastes little time in heading up to lucky number 17.
[say]"God, please just let your phone be broken,"[/say] he mutters as he takes the stairs two at a time. Finding an actual dead body isn't and never has been on his bucket list, and besides, Ronin imagines it's a lot different when the body is someone you'd met.
Emerging from the stairwell and clearing his throat, he quickly locates Remi's apartment door and paints on his more cheerful and charming expression, reaching out to rap brightly upon it with his knuckles.
RE: dire engagements - Remi - 09-28-2025
The door cracks open; Remi peers out, curls flattened on one side and stuck up at odd angles on the other. The same clothes cling to him from the night at the house, wrinkled and sagging at the collar, and his green eyes squint uncertainly into the hallway before they settle on Ronin.
He blinks once. Then again, slower.
The door opens a little farther, and he shakes his head with a breath that might’ve meant anything; surprise, apology, relief. His expression folds into something tired but soft, as if he’s not sure whether to laugh or explain. [say]"I told Isla I wasn’t feeling up for drinks,"[/say] he says, his voice low and hoarse around the edges. [say]"I appreciate the effort, but I really am tired after the night we had."[/say]
The way he says it carries no irony. No awareness at all of how long it’s actually been.
RE: dire engagements - Ronin - 09-28-2025
Ronin doesn't hide the way he sags with relief to see Remi alive and... er, well? sort of? and his blue eyes flick over the other man as if to note both the obvious and the less obvious. He'd not reviewed enough of the footage (and his memory isn't sharp enough) to realise that Remi hasn't so much as changed out of his clothes in close to six days, but he can tell that he's been asleep and that he's not gotten undressed for it.
[say]"Wh...?"[/say] The last thing he expects is for the medium to talk about drinks with Isla, and for a second he thinks that their technician had been able to get in touch with him and hadn't told Ronin, until Remi comes out with after the night we had. [say]"...Remi, do you know what day it is?"[/say] he asks slowly.
The other man hasn't so much as demanded to know how Ronin got his address - not a bad thing - but there's something increasingly worrying about his dazed expression. [say]"We've been trying to call you all week - we were able to get the all clear to finish the show, but our permit runs out tonight. Are you... is everything good, man?"[/say]
RE: dire engagements - Remi - 09-29-2025
Remi blinks at Ronin but doesn’t really seem to see him. His seaglass eyes fix somewhere near Ronin’s shoulder, unfocused, as if trying to peer through water. There’s scruff along his jaw, grown out longer than usual. He sways faintly in the doorway, one hand resting against the edge of it as if to anchor himself.
[say]"Saturday,"[/say] he says after a pause, frowning. Then he rolls his eyes and corrects himself, a faint, distracted gesture. [say]"Sunday. We went past midnight."[/say]
Ronin’s next words land strangely. All week. Remi’s frown deepens; he lifts his gaze as though that might sharpen the picture. [say]"All week?"[/say] he echoes, soft, faint, the words like a question in a language he’s half-forgotten. It doesn’t make sense, and he doesn’t seem to know why.
[say]"I’m fine,"[/say] he adds quickly, ruffling a hand through his curls in a gesture that looks more habitual than convincing. [say]"Like I told Isla—I’m just tired."[/say]
Inside the apartment, a light flickers once. Then again as a thin, stuttering glow seeps out past the doorframe, brushing over the back of Remi’s arm.
RE: dire engagements - Ronin - 09-30-2025
[say]"Saturday,"[/say] Ronin corrects again, because Remi had been right the first time, if not off by a week. [say]"Afternoon,"[/say] he clarifies, because he doesn't know if the other man has even had a chance to glance at a clock lately. Nodding to him - yes, all week - he furrows his brow and glances past Remi as if to search for something (or someone) in the apartment. All he can make out, though, is a flickering light, Ronin stepping back and glancing at the weird glow that slips out through the doorway, before promptly allowing his subconscious to dismiss it.
[say]"Are you by yourself?"[/say] he asks. [say]"Only a woman answered the intercom... I think..."[/say] Shaking his head, Ronin ruffles a hand through the back of his hair. [say]"Listen, it's fine - we can just say that you weren't up to coming back to the house. I think you should maybe go see someone though, Remi. You don't look all that well, y'know? And check your phone - I think it might be broken."[/say]
RE: dire engagements - Remi - 09-30-2025
Remi doesn’t know Ronin well enough to tell if this is a joke or some strange attempt at reassurance, and he’s too tired to pull the thread either way. So he just exhales through his nose and nods slowly, like he’s willing to accept the day of the week as a fact of the universe rather than try to correct it.
When Ronin asks if he’s alone, Remi shakes his head, then immediately nods. [say]"It’s just me,"[/say] he says. Then, with a faint frown like he’s only just remembering, [say]"Well. I have a cat."[/say]
As Ronin tells him he doesn’t look well, something flickers behind Remi’s eyes. Not sharpness, not quite, but a faint spark of who he’d been before the house. He huffs a soft, dry laugh and leans lightly against the doorframe. [say]"Well, I didn’t think I was your type to begin with,"[/say] he murmurs. [say]"But that’s a bit harsh."[/say]
He pulls his phone from his pocket, screen facing up as he presses the side button. It lights without hesitation. No missed calls. No messages. Just a normal screen glowing innocently in the gloom. He raises his eyebrows and tilts it toward Ronin. [say]" Or maybe you’ve been phoning a different person."[/say]
RE: dire engagements - Ronin - 09-30-2025
[say]"Well, I'm almost certain it wasn't your cat who answered the intercom, so..."[/say] Ronin smiles sheepishly and shrugs his shoulders, putting it down to his ears playing tricks on him. As all skeptics do, when the pile of evidence begins to stack up, there's no excuse at first but to double the fuck down on reasonable explanations. He clears his throat and adjusts his bike helmet under his arm, about to excuse himself when Remi pipes up again - and his remark is enough to have Ronin flushing all the way to the tips of his ears.
[say]"Yeah, well - the truth hurts sometimes?"[/say] He says, a clumsy injection of humour and a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He shakes his head a bit helplessly, unable to reconcile everything that's happened leading up to this meeting with the undeniable strangeness that drapes itself around Remi and his apartment like dense fog.
As the other man holds up his entirely innocuous phone, though, at least Ronin can try for something solid and real. Slipping his own cell out of his pocket, he unlocks it, loads his calls and messages and turns the screen to show Remi. [say]"This isn't your number...?"[/say]
A beat later and he's trying to recover, regardless of the response. [say]"So you definitely don't want to come and finish the show with us?"[/say]
RE: dire engagements - Remi - 09-30-2025
Remi lifts his brows in that wide, doubtful way particular to Italians, mouth tilting somewhere between agreement and warning. [say]"She can be very vocal when she wants something,"[/say] he says dryly, and leaves it at that.
He notices the blush. Of course he does—there’s not much else to focus on, and Ronin is the sort of handsome that gets away with more than it should: blue-eyed, dark-haired, cursed with a smile that always seems just a little too casual to be trusted. Remi notes it all, files it away, and doesn’t let a single flicker show on his face. Or, he tries, anyway.
Instead, he glances at the screen Ronin offers, takes in the list of unanswered messages, then shrugs with a nod. [say]"Maybe it’s one of those Apple and Android things,"[/say] he says mildly. [say]"Or a ghost. One of the two."[/say]
As Ronin asks about the shoot, the light behind Remi flickers again, longer this time. A slow, pulsing stutter like a breath being held and let out unevenly. Remi doesn’t turn immediately, but he does glance over his shoulder, eyes narrowing slightly. [say]"Of course I’ll finish the show,"[/say] he says, though his voice is softer now, slower.
[say]"So that's....we're filming tonight?"[/say]
RE: dire engagements - Ronin - 09-30-2025
Ronin - who has no pets - has no idea how vocal Remi's cat might be, but he's quite convinced that she wouldn't know how to operate the intercom. Either way, it's with a smile that lands somewhere between polite and crooked that he accepts the other man's remark (even if there is no cat to be found).
[say]"Heh, maybe,"[/say] he concedes of their phones - the logical part, anyway - as if he doesn't really want to admit it, and were he not suddenly keen to be out of this building, he might have argued that he and Isla have an Apple and an Android between them, and neither have made successful contact with Remi.
[say]"Yeah, that's where we're..."[/say] This time Ronin's eyes do flick over Remi's shoulder, head tilting a bit. [say]"...filming,"[/say] he finishes. [say]"We'll be there at about 9pm to start setting up, but I don't think we'll be starting for at least an hour after that. We'll be in the dining room and going down into the basement."[/say]
Gazing up at the light and then back at Remi, Ronin tries on a smile. [say]"You're leaning into the creepy ambience with that, y'know,"[/say] he says. [say]"So we'll see you there?"[/say]
RE: dire engagements - Remi - 09-30-2025
Remi nods as Ronin speaks, the details washing over him in pieces. Dining room. Basement. His gaze hardens slightly, not sharp—just distant, like his thoughts have pulled a few steps ahead of the conversation. He still nods. [say]"We should bring water."[/say] he murmurs, almost as an afterthought. Then, after a beat longer than it should take: [say]"For the well."[/say] The words hang for half a second before he blinks, a quiet reset sliding back across his face. His eyes flick toward the flickering light behind him and he huffs a faint, sheepish breath, offering a small shake of his head.
[say]"The wiring in this place is shit,"[/say] he says with a tired sort of grin. [say]"No matter how many bulbs I change, they always end up flickering."[/say] He looks back to Ronin then, and nods again, steadier this time. [say]"Yeah. I’ll be there."[/say]
///
True to how they've always known Remi to be, he shows up right on time.
He steps onto the set with the quiet ease of someone who’s done this before and knows exactly how much space he takes up. His curls are damp, his face clean-shaven, and the change of clothes—dark jeans, fitted sweater, simple jacket—makes him look almost like himself again.
He finds Isla near the equipment van, watching something on a monitor with the sort of laser focus that would normally have him not wanting to interrupt. [say]"Hey,"[/say] Remi says, offering a small, sheepish smile as he approaches. [say]"Sorry for all the missed calls and everything. Something went weird with my international plan."[/say] He lifts a shoulder in a quiet shrug. [say]"Should be sorted now."[/say]