Whispers in the bayou... ░▒░ Down at the docks, the woman in the faded jacket lingered long on the creaking deck, her eyes fixed past the hospital’s grim silhouette where a blonde shadow haunted her stare—biting her lip like a secret too sharp to hold, before she turned slow toward the rusted bait shop, lost in a storm of old ghosts. ░▒
▒░ And that wasn’t the only thing stirring beneath the heavy, humid fog—whispers clawed through the Hook, Line, and Sinker’s grand reopening, tales of broken promises tangled with the scent of bourbon and danger, as the Silent Serpent’s veins seeped deeper into Port Laveau’s bloodied heart. ░▒
░▒░ They say the man in the white suit caught the glance but said nothing, his smile tight as the night—what’s he weighing in the Ledger now? The bayou waits, hungry. ░▒
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