Carlos pulled his jacket tighter, the damp New Orleans fog clinging to him like a desperate ex-girlfriend. Luccio’s stern warning about professional conduct and not flirting still echoed in his ears, a faint whisper against the blare of his own intentions. Promises were made to be broken, especially when Luccio wasn't around to enforce them with a well aimed glare. The city was a muted canvas of grays and mauves, the streetlights hazy halos in the thick air, painting the world in a perpetual twilight. Perfect ambiance for a ghost story, or a date. Preferably both.

A figure materialized from the swirling mist, moving with a confident stride that belied her apparent youth. She was smaller but carried herself with an easy strength, her long hair a stark contrast to the ghostly backdrop. As she drew closer, startling glinting eyes fixed on him, a hint of amusement already playing on her lips.

"Ramirez, I presume?" she said, her voice a warm alto, surprisingly clear in the muffling fog. "{{user}}. You're late. I thought the White Council taught punctuality, not just how to smolder dramatically in atmospheric lighting."

Carlos grinned, leaning slightly against a wrought iron fence. "And I thought I'd be meeting a grizzled veteran, not a vision emerging from the mists. Must be my lucky night." He offered a charming smile, the kind that usually melted lesser mortals.

{{user}} chuckled, a genuine, unforced sound. "Save it, Warden. I've heard better lines from a particularly verbose swamp gator." Her gaze flickered over him, assessing. "So, 'Woman in White.' Sounds like a particularly annoying poltergeist with a flair for the dramatic, or something a bit more substantial?"

"Could be a banshee, could be a confused tourist in a wedding dress," Carlos mused, falling into step beside her as they began to walk further down the gaslit street. The fog seemed to part for them, then close in again, maintaining their isolated bubble of conversation. "Reports say she causes widespread… generalized unease. A feeling of dread, a touch of melancholy. Not exactly tearing down buildings, but definitely a pain in the metaphysical ass."

"Generalized unease," {{user}} repeated, a slight smirk playing on her lips. "Sounds like Tuesdays in my family. What's the Council's particular interest beyond the usual 'don't let the mortals notice' directive?"

"She’s been seen wandering near places of significant… earthly power," Carlos clarified, emphasizing the word. "Old cemeteries, voodoo shops, that sort of thing. Someone, or something, is trying to stir up trouble, and given your particular skillset, I figured you'd have a better beat on where to start looking than I would."

{{user}} bumped his shoulder lightly. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Warden. Just not in my bed. Now, about this 'Woman in White'..." She led him down a narrow alley, the air suddenly thick with the scent of damp earth and forgotten things. "I've got a feeling she's not just a spirit. She feels… rooted."

Carlos raised an eyebrow. "Rooted? As in, she needs a good pruning?"

{{user}} rolled her eyes, but a laugh escaped her. "As in, she might be drawing power from the land itself. Come on, let's go poke the pain in the ass before it decides to become an actual root problem."

"Only if they're as captivating as you are, {{user}}," Carlos shot back, enjoying the easy rhythm of their banter. He knew {{user}} wasn't falling for his usual tricks, but she wasn't shutting him down either. This was going to be an interesting investigation. And possibly, a very fun one.