Corrine Levasseur-Phan

38 | Siphoner | Forgery

[corrinelevasseur-phan]

rohan-persaud​:

The nod which Rohan offered came sympathetically. But really, he supposed, maybe the accidents of happy failure were what allowed folks to find their proper paths. He laughed, a wistful noise. 

“Funny how it works out, isn’t it? Some people are lucky, though. They’re good at everything. But as far as cheerleading goes, I think I could have done the shouting and the rhyming and all. But the flipping? No, I make a point of staying right-side-up.” He made a rolling motion with his hands as if to punctuate his point before giving a shake of his head. “As a theatre person, I find it’s very much about the feeling behind the faces. Think of something that makes you genuinely very sad, and it helps really sell it. I’m thinking about my buddy out there.” He gave a joking motion over his shoulder.

Rohan sighed then. “To be honest, I wouldn’t know the difference. I’m a wine drinker, and it’s all made-up. I actually have no idea what a bouquet is. Do you know how many times someone has told me they could taste the minerals? What? Like dirt?” He wrinkled up his nose, nostrils flaring.

Still, features softening, Rohan managed a smile. “I agree. What are we? Superhero movies? No. We don’t have to be made for the masses. Just the ones that fit.” He shrugged. “But I don’t outgrow anyone. You can tell. I’m still feeling very bad about…this whole meeting. I’m sentimental and achy and see the best in everyone. So! I’ll miss him tonight, but I’m having an awful time. Does that make any sense at all?” 

He nodded, extending a hand to take hers and give it a shake. He raised his brow, offering a laugh. “I mean, I have lived here a long time. But no. I’m a Maine-ah. And I grew up in the hospitality industry. So, small-town kindness with a healthy helping of putting the customer first. Makes me a doormat, but a very charming one. If only I had come from one of those other little towns. You know, with secrets and standoffish locals.” He flashed his teeth at the joke. “And you?”

x

A theatre kid made sense for Rohan, she thought. He seemed like an amiable type. One of those folks that made friends no matter where they went because they were just genuinely good people. Genuinely people like that didn't get wrapped up with people like her. Honestly, shouldn't get wrapped up. Even in casual conversations where you were never going to see the other person again. The smile on her lips faltered. She hoped it just looked like sympathy.

"Oh. Yeah, wine drinker too, weirdly enough. And most people just pretend to be able to tell the difference between wines, honestly." A good sommelier could convince people of the tastes they were about to have. What mattered was expectation and presentation. And the ability to read people. To know what they expected out of the experience. It was how she passed so many of her counterfeit bottles off as genuine. Well, before it all blew up in her face.

"It makes sense." Corrine nodded. "You're empathic. It's not a bad trait to have. Just sucks that people will take advantage of it sometimes."

She was just forgetting her trepidation again when their hands met in the shake. There was that flash again―a golden thread that snaked its way up Rohan's arm and flared around him before fizzling out as she jerked her hand back.

"Fuck- I mean- sorry, static shock," Corrine lied. A horrible lie. If there'd been a static shock, Rohan would have felt it too. "I, uh..." she trailed off, bit her lip, and tried again, "Moved around a lot. New York, France, lots of other places."

She stared at Rohan. How? How was this perfectly normal guy a supernatural? Had to be a werewolf, right? That's why she'd holed up in the Bronx in the first place, because at least if she did stumble into someone supernatural, it would be a werewolf and not a witch or something.

"What are you?" she blurted out. Great, mouth going before her brain thought now. "Sorry. Don't answer. In public and all." Embarrassed, she turned away and hastily set some money on the bar to pay for her mostly untouched drink. "I'm an ass. You're fine. Just got surprised, is all. I haven't been home in a long time."

[corrinelevasseur-phan]

arthur-m-hawthorne​:

Rarely did they ever go to bars but tonight was an exception. Given the current situation, Arthur knew how tense the Agency currently was and that a drink could help calm a fellow seraph’s nerves. Said fellow seraph was currently paying an extended stay in the restroom. Was the suspect bar food or the amount of shots they watched disappear in the blink of in eye to blame? They couldn’t say. Now Arthur was awkwardly sitting alone, out of place with two tall glasses of water in hand. And the water was starting to hit room temperature.

They should probably check on how their buddy was doing, shouldn’t they? The seraph was about to leave their seat when that single comment hit their radar: God, I hope this isn’t a wolf bar. “…” Arthur gnawed on the inside of their lip, tracing a finger on the glass’s rim in thought as they looked to the woman left of them. The supernatural alarm bells were ringing and she didn’t appear to be in the best mood. Not the best combination. They probably shouldn’t say anything. “…” But Arthur couldn’t help themselves.

“…With all due respect,” Arthur began with a phrase that was more tasteful than ‘um, actually’, “this is the Bronx. Drinking at a bar in the Bronx and hoping its not a wolf bar is kinda like visiting a foreign country and hoping not to meet anyone who actually lives there.” They shrugged. “I’m guessing you’re new in town? Mind if I ask what brings you to New York?”

x

Irritation flared as someone interrupted her gloom. Corrine pushed back a curtain of hair that had fallen over her face to frown at the person next to her. 'With all due respect' was never said with any intent other than full disrespect. Part of her just wanted to roll her eyes, get out of here, and leave the shitty drink on the bar. The other part of her was half curious where they wanted to go with this.

Corrine let go of the desire to have a kneejerk reaction to the slight challenge of her statement. Though, her internal warning bells were still telling her to get out of here. Clearly she was speaking with someone who understood the implication behind her grumbles.

"Saying 'with all do respect' is like starting a conversation with 'no offense, but..." Corrine scoffed. And then let it go with a huff. It wasn't worth it. "But a fair response, I guess." The only reliable way to actually avoid supernaturals in New York was to never leave the house. Which is what she had been doing, but she was getting completely stir crazy. Hence the going out for a bad drink.

"Sort of new in town. I used to live here ages ago," she replied and grimaced at the last question. What did bring her to New York? It was an unknowingly loaded question with an even more loaded response. "What brings me? Bad decision making, mostly."

Corrine turned in her seat to face the stranger next to her, and eyed the two glasses of water in their hands. She quirked a brow. "Are you really drinking water in a bar or are you dealing with the aftermath?"

[corrinelevasseur-phan]

swearonstars​:

“Yeah. It looked in, no offense again,” Meena let out a light laugh. “And I’m offering, so thanks for not leaving me hanging,” She teased. A smile growing across her lips as she nodded in the direction of the bartender who was already moving to fix the pair a new set of drinks. Thankful that the other woman didn’t seem to be all too offended by the fact that she had just visible snubbed the woman’s choice in alcohol and then proceeded to order for her. But, thankfully the other woman didn’t mind the fact that Meena was inherently nosey. 

“Certain folks? What? You’ve got a problem with fleas? Or is it the entire community as a whole you’re trying to avoid?” Meena asked with a raised brow. The witch being sure to keep her voice down as she pivoted in the barstool to face the woman beside her. “Because if it’s option one then you can relax. I’m not the hairy kind. But, if it’s the latter then, I take it you’re new it town. But, don’t worry. I’m on my way straight back to into midtown the second I finish this drink.”

“So are you about to take cheers back or what?” She asked curiously, not all too sure what this other woman’s deal was, but it wasn’t exactly everyday where you bumped into someone who simultaneously knew about the supernatural community, but wanted nothing to do with it as a whole and seemed to be put visibly on edge the second it seemed like someone had actually picked up the faint mumble she had made under her breath.

x

"Sort of the whole community. Maybe. I'm changing my mind as we talk," Corrine replied. She hadn't drank even close to enough to be as loose-lipped as she was right now. A couple sips did not warrant all this casualness. What was wrong with her? Loneliness? Maybe she'd been away from NYC so long that some sort of fugue state that manifested as homesickness was kicking in?

She exhaled slowly. Alright, options were she hightailed it out of here for no good reason, or she chilled for a whole second and stop acting like what seemed like a perfectly nice person was a threat.

The bartender arrived to set two glasses of something that looked about a million times better than whatever Corrine had been drinking a minute ago and then bustled off to busy themselves with other customers. Corrine pulled a drink close to her and raised it towards the other woman.

"No, not gonna take it back. How about apology cheers instead for being bitchy to someone who didn't deserve my bitchiness?" Corrine offered with a sheepish wince. "But to answer your question, no, not totally new here. Coming home after a long time, and I keep expecting someone to try and get me to join something." The idea of being allowed to join a coven now was odd. She'd gotten the impression that witches wanted nothing to do with a siphoner like her. What had changed?

"I take it your not new in town. You don't have that uhm... touristy look. Hell, if you'd told me you owned the place, I'd believe you." She huffed an awkward laugh. "I'm Corrine, by the way."

[corrinelevasseur-phan]

rohan-persaud​:

Rohan managed a soft smile, nodding his head. He raised his brow.  “Oh, I was never a cheerleader myself. I’ve been a dance captain, though. Which is not really the same thing, but maybe they require the same skillset.” He shrugged distantly, although he felt that perhaps that was not exactly true. “I was not a good dance captain,” he added as something of an afterthought. And that much was true. His coming to New York had proven that in many ways, Rohan really was a small fish in a very big pond, one full of better dancers, better singers, and better actors. And when one cannot do, one writes. He hummed. 

“I figured I’d ask. You see, I rely on being so ridiculous that people don’t know what to do. It’s very endearing and usually wins me bartender pity,” he joked lightly, wrinkling up his nose. “Do you think they’ll make me a Cosmo if I ask nicely?” He rocked a little on the barstool, cocking his head to look back at the window. He nodded.

“He’s taking a business call. Which has happened before. He’ll come back inside in a few minutes, apologize, but he really does have to go deal with something. And then we’ll remember the other one exists in about six months and try to do this all over again.” he sighed, shaking his head. “He’s a good guy. But have you ever outgrown a person? He’s outgrown me. You know, when he first sat down, he asked me where I like to ski. As if that’s just a thing a person does.” He rolled his shoulders. “My name is Rohan. Hello.”

x

What a weird little guy. She liked him. Corrine liked weird people that just slipped right over all the boring niceties that came with meeting new people. Most new people were categorically boring.

"And I was not a good cheerleader," Corrine admitted. She had tried out once. She'd maybe punch a girl in the nose for making fun of her during tryouts in high school and gotten detention instead. After that, there had been no more cheerleading. "Sounds like it wasn't meant to be for both of us."

"Pity drinks. I approve. I've been trying to make sad faces at the bartender to see if they'll give me a better drink, but no such luck yet." Unlike her new companion, Corrine suspected she might come off more pathetic than endearing. At least right now when she had been full force into moping and feeling bad for herself. The new company was nice, though. Nice enough to make the tension headache she still had recede a little.

"Hm," she mused at the question and scanned behind the bar to see what sort of bottles they had stocked. She could generally tell what it was just by the shape. "I'm sure they have vodka for mixed drinks... Ah, there's some. Might not be the best since this is such a whiskey forward place, but knock yourself out."

Corrine followed her new companion's gaze to where he searched for his friend. Absently, she drummed her fingers against her glass of growingly untouched whiskey. "I think I might be more like you. I think I've had other people outgrow me, rather than the other way around." She shrugged. "They're missing out." It did sting a little, despite what she told herself.

"Corrine. Nice to meet ya, Rohan." She offered a hand to shake, which was always a two-fold thing for her. Good for greeting people, sure, but also good to see who she was dealing with. Not that she expected Rohan of being a magical sort. He seemed to normal to be part of her lot. "Hope you don't take offense, but you're not from New York, are you? You're like..." Corrine paused a moment to think, "Not nearly standoffish enough."

[corrinelevasseur-phan]

swearonstars​:

Meena rarely if ever stepped foot in the Bronx and for good reason. It wasn’t as if the witch had anything against werewolves in particular. It was more where they typically chose to live than who they were that Meena couldn’t help, but eye, being one of many New Yorkers, she supposed, who lived by the belief of why would you ever leave Manhattan if you could help it? That is unless you were going to Brooklyn. The social media influencer that she was being a sucker for all of those insta pop up restaurants that had been taking over the Brooklyn scene. But, being the advisor for the coven, there was times where she had to trek across town to pop into the wolf den and, after a long day like today, a drink sounded exactly what she needed.

The sound of her heels clacking against the floor gave her presence away before she had even turned the corner of the bar. Flinging her designer handbag haphazardly onto the bar top as she plopped down into the seat beside the other woman and ordered herself one of the most expensive drinks on the menu. “Oh and make that two. One for me and one to replace what- what are you drinking?” Meena turned to the woman beside her as she cocked her brow up at the other out of curiosity. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just, are you honestly enjoying that? Because if you are, then go right ahead and carry on. But, it just doesn’t exactly seem like it?” She noted, an innocent enough smile playing at the lips of the telepath as she gave the woman before her an eased shrug. “And technical every bar can be a wolf bar. But, as far as I know this place caters to everyone.”

x

The sound and sudden appearance of a handbag on the bar next to her had her flinching like someone had just popped a balloon in her ear. Corrine winced. Was this going to be her life now? Jumping at any tiny thing her on edge brain misjudged as a threat?

As if said handbag was actually a threat, Corrine eyed it up. Though she'd become more rough around the edges the last several years, her upbringing ensured that she still recognized nice things when she saw them. This bar was on the fancier side than her usual fair, but she didn't think it was designer handbag fancy. The woman who ceremoniously flopped next to Corrine looked designer handbag fancy though.

She quirked an eyebrow at the offer of a better drink. "It's pretty disgusting," Corrine agreed. "I'm not one to turn down a free drink if you're offering." Was this flirting? It didn't feel like flirting, but it had been a while since Corrine had bothered with any of that. She'd figured out a long time ago that she was patently uninterested in romantic entanglements. Fine for other people, but she'd always been more interested in work ventures.

With the promise of a better drink on the way, Corrine set the cheap whiskey aside so it could be taken away by the bartender. And then all her warning bells went off. Corrine really needed to learn how to keep her inside voice inside, because of course some other supernatural person was going to pick up what she was mumbling to herself. The response the other woman gave was just too casual for her not to be referring to the same kind of wolves Corrine was.

"I don't have a problem with that, but sometimes a girl just wants to avoid some of the complications that comes with certain folks," Corrine said. A little test. Just to see if they were really on the same page here. It would be easy enough to tell if she was dealing with another magical person with a small touch, but she didn't make a habit of poking people out of nowhere. 

"Unless I'm mistaken, in which case, cheers to borderline day drinking." Now the question was, how much did she actually want that free drink versus getting the hell out of whatever this was about to be?

[corrinelevasseur-phan]

thewolf-desmond​:

It had been a small white lie when he had cut dinner with his parents short. He cat cited a bad headache and a hard case to work at in the morning. In reality, he just couldn’t stand their talking anymore. If his father talked for another moment about the economy, Desmond was certain he was going to throw himself out a window. Wolf form or no.

He’d taken a taxi to a bar near his house and no where near his parent’s hotel. He made straight for the bar as soon as he entered the front doors, calling the bartender over and ordering a rum and coke. The bartender nodded, starting Desmond’s tab before his ass had even fully found purchase on the seat. For a moment - just a mere second really - he considered that he might come here too often if Henry had started to get into that habit. Or maybe the fact that he knew the bartender’s first name was another indicitaor. But that was nothing to think about now.

He was about to take his first sip when he picked up something particularly interesting. A wolf bar. As if that was a bad thing. Desmond’s eyes searched around the bar, finding the woman eyeing her drink just three seats down. Desmond pushed himself a chair over, scooting closer. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s piss pouring rain and it’s my birthday. Would you at least do me the favor of keeping me company for a bit?”

x

The burn down her throat was not a pleasant one. Maybe it wasn't as worth finishing this as she thought it was. Years of enjoying fine wines and nice cocktails had apparently turned her into a snob. It still made a good ice pack, though.

Corrine pressed the glass back against her forehead and a drip of condensation rolled onto the bridge of her nose. She wiped it away with her thumb as someone scooted next to her. Someone who was chatty. Irritated, Corrine barely gave him a glance, ready to tell him to piss off, but then that birthday comment stopped it on her tongue.

She sighed. "Shit, that's miserable." Corrine pulled the glass from her forehead and raised it in a half toast for the poor bastard's birthday. "Yeah, take a seat. Misery loves company, I guess." As much as she wanted to be alone and keep feeling sorry for herself, she didn't have the heart to tell this guy to take a hike. Maybe she was imagining it, but he seemed like one of those people that had a sad face. She felt like she had a sad face. Or maybe a bitchy face. They were just two sad/bitchy faced people drinking too early at a bar.

"Name's Corrine. What's yours, birthday boy?"

[corrinelevasseur-phan]

rohan-persaud​:

x

Rohan sat at a table by himself, his glass largely untouched, placed artfully in the glint of the front windows’ waning daylight. He watched the way the light reflected, shimmering amber, and gave something of a deep sigh, but he made no real effort to drink it. In truth, he did not even like whiskey, but really, he thought, he should have expected the guy to pick a place like this to drink away his troubles. Rohan had gone to his wedding once, without a plus one, right after they graduated college. And he had been compelled to smoke a cigar with the bridal party, which he supposed some people enjoyed. He did not—too square maybe, too straight-laced, even then.

His companion had abandoned him for some business call by now, which he could see him still taking out on the sidewalk. Maybe this little reunion was futile, he mused, lips pursing up. That was not a bad thing, of course. People grew apart; they changed. The things you might have in common during a generalized English lecture no longer resonated once adult lives had been led. 

Either way, rocking to his feet, Rohan made his way to the bar counter, offering a nod to the keep. “Could you recommend me something…sweet, I guess? Oh, no, no. It’s very good. I’m not complaining. But my friend who ordered for me, he’s a deep sea diver in this world. And I’m a poor fool in the shallows.” 

The laugh which followed came bashfully, and his witticisms did not seem to quite land. He sunk onto a stool to wait with a grimace, tapping his hands idly on the countertop. 

He looked up. “Hm? I’m sorry, Did you say something?” He raised an eyebrow. “Wolves’ Wall? Like the cheerleading pyramid?”  

x

Location: The Whiskey Room in The Bronx Time: Early evening 

Next time, she was going to find a place that was more abandoned. In hindsight, going to a fancy bar was probably a bad idea when she wanted to be alone. As early as it was, this place was nice enough to attract customers at all sorts of hours. There were people coming in on early dates, or filtering in after work, and Corrine just wanted to be a grump. They were harshing her grumping time!

Though, if she had been less grouchy, she probably wouldn't have been muttering to herself and attracting the attention of chatty strangers. She could ignore him, she supposed. Become the true anti-socialite she wanted to be right now. But it had been so long since she'd had any proper human contact, and Corrine couldn't stop herself from quirking her lips in a smile at the innocent comment.

"Oh yeah, cheerleading. Just reliving my glory days at the bottom of a glass," Corrine lied. Her sister, Aurelia, had been more the cheerleading type. In school, Corrine had been more the get caught smoking behind the school type.

Corrine leaned back from her hunch position to get a better look at the stranger. "Getting something sweet might be a little challenging at a whiskey bar. A cocktail might be more up your alley. Get a mint julep if you like mint. Or a Manhattan if you don't mind getting a few insulted looks from the good people of The Bronx."

There was an empty table not far from them with an abandoned drink. "Did you get stood up by that deep diving friend of yours?"

[corrinelevasseur-phan]

Open to: Closed Location: The Whiskey Room in The Bronx Time: Early evening Three perfectly clear spheres of ice clinked around Corrine's glass as her whiskey was set in front of her. She picked it up, swishing it around so the ice spun like a weird little snow globe, and then pressed the glass to her forehead. It was a momentarily alleviation of the tension headache she'd had nearly every day since she'd arrived back home in NYC. Part of her felt safer here, but another part was screaming at her to get out. She was no longer used to staying in one place for so long.

Steeling herself, Corrine sipped at her drink, and then took every ounce of her self control not to wince at the burn. Blech. That's what she got for ordering the cheapest crap on the drink menu. But she was nothing if not stubborn. She'd spent what little money she had left on this garbage, and she was going to get her money's worth if it killed her. Another sip. It might kill her. 

Other than Corrine, there were only a few other patrons floating about The Whiskey Room. She was borderline day drinking as evening had really only just begun. A small swirl, like a glimmering golden thread, caught the corner of her eye as someone grabbing their drink from the bar accidentally brushed against her. It was a brief image, like the edges of a dream that faded as you woke and focused too much on it, but enough of an indicator to tell her that another supernatural person was in the bar. 

Corrine turned away, kept her focus on the counter of the bar she was sat at, and hunched her shoulders. That was the problem with coming back to NYC. There was way too much magic in this place. When she went place to place, sometimes blowing right past tiny towns that barely cracked one thousand people, she barely saw them. Right now, Corrine didn't want to deal with anyone.  “God, I hope this isn’t a wolf bar,” she muttered under her breath.