it feels like we're ready to crack, these days, you and I
Isla's arrival means Ronin is too distracted to wonder for long about what Remi means by not writing the bit, and that's probably a good thing, because they're about to enter a room he's literally just scene on the medium's phone back when it was a bloodbath. He compartmentalises it like a pro, of course, glancing to Remi and nodding at his ideas. "Let's start with the music box and use the Speak & Spell as backup," he says. "Only because people eat that shit up when a creepy music box plays in a kid's room, y'know?"
Once Isla is happy with her framing and the shot, Ronin launches seamlessly into their next section, explaining the room before them and incorporating Remi's information about the crime scene as if it's history he's known all his life, rather than something learned in the past thirty seconds. He almost gets it done without incident, but as he reaches for the door handle he jumps back, zapped by what seems like an electric shock. "Fuck," he curses, glancing between them with raised eyebrows before trying again to open the door, letting it swing ominously open and into the square of dark.
Isla spends a moment zooming in on the shadowy rectangle of the doorframe before calling for the cut, and both she and Ronin burst into laughter that tries not to be nervous. "We can bleep out the swear, right?" He chuckles, gesturing for them to walk in. "It's too good not to keep."
Inside, the children's room is, of course, empty of any furniture or curtains or old bloodstains, the bare boards creaking underfoot, the window peeping out onto the van and its equipment. "Alright, Remi," Ronin says, his voice resuming its ghosthunter cadence. "This is the place - what do you think? Have we got any visitors with us?"
Once Isla is happy with her framing and the shot, Ronin launches seamlessly into their next section, explaining the room before them and incorporating Remi's information about the crime scene as if it's history he's known all his life, rather than something learned in the past thirty seconds. He almost gets it done without incident, but as he reaches for the door handle he jumps back, zapped by what seems like an electric shock. "Fuck," he curses, glancing between them with raised eyebrows before trying again to open the door, letting it swing ominously open and into the square of dark.
Isla spends a moment zooming in on the shadowy rectangle of the doorframe before calling for the cut, and both she and Ronin burst into laughter that tries not to be nervous. "We can bleep out the swear, right?" He chuckles, gesturing for them to walk in. "It's too good not to keep."
Inside, the children's room is, of course, empty of any furniture or curtains or old bloodstains, the bare boards creaking underfoot, the window peeping out onto the van and its equipment. "Alright, Remi," Ronin says, his voice resuming its ghosthunter cadence. "This is the place - what do you think? Have we got any visitors with us?"
when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die
