#Wes Clyde | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatavery · 3 months

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Crosstalk (Art Trade)

My part of an art trade I did with Melon over on twitter, featuring their OC Ethel Freeman and everyone's favorite weasel-faced Marigold, Wes! Had fun with this one, I'm glad you liked it, Melon!

Crosstalk: Noun: "When two communications channels play over each other, usually unintentionally."

...

“… and that marks the third raid on an illegal drinking establishment this month. While authorities have refused to comment on the matter, they have reassured me that all will be taken care of in an orderly fashion.” Ethel shuffled her notes for a moment as she took a short breather. The gray-furred cat took a moment, before she continued. “And on the topic of doing things in an orderly fashion, do be careful out there tomorrow, all you drivers. It’s getting real slippery out there. This has been Ethel Freeman with the Tin Twist Ticket. Have a good night.”

Ethel flicked a few switches and just like that, she was off the air. She checked her wristwatch for the time. It was getting rather late by now, almost ten. She was definitely one of the latest broadcasts, though she didn’t have much of a choice. These days, most stations were limited in when and how much they’d broadcast. Not many shows had female hosts and even fewer sole female hosts. But Ethel was doing what she enjoyed and she was doing it well – at least she thought she was doing rather well for herself.

Giving a yawn, the American Curl cat gave a self-satisfied smile. Life was good. Ethel ran a hand through her curly, black locks. With the holiday season, she had plenty on her mind; presents to buy, people to give them to… and people to keep at bay.

A knock on her studio door made her jump and whip around, her glasses almost falling off in the process. Framed in the door of her office stood a tall, looming figure clad in a black suit. Had it not been for the hunched figure’s white dress shirt and blood red tie, their clothes may very well have blended in with their black fur.

“Happy holidays,” the tall stranger sneered at Ethel, tone rather sarcastic. The scarred, elongated face was one Ethel recognized. If anything, it was one that was very hard to forget. His ominously bright, almost glowing eyes were trained on the heavyset American Curl.

“What are you here for, Mr. Clyde?” Ethel’s lips were pursed as she looked upon the weasel-faced stranger with mounting dislike. It wasn't the first time he'd appeared unannounced in her studio, though Ethel couldn’t exactly say that his other visits had been much better.

“That’s not a very festive greeting, now is it, missy?” he practically crooned at her as he moved into the room. While he himself had never done anything to harm Ethel, seeing him approaching still made her tense up. On the left side of his chest, Ethel spotted the familiar, orange flower pin, and she noticed he hadn't bothered wiping his boots of snow. “I was here to give you an invitation-”

“If it’s from your boss, tell him I’m still not interested,” the shorter female insisted. She scowled up at Mr. Clyde as he stopped in front of her. He had quite a inches on her in terms of height, he’d have even more if he wasn't as hunched. Despite being slicked back, the fur on his head looked slightly messy.

“Fighting words…” he said sarcastically as he looked down at her with a look that braver people than Ethel would have found intimidating. But she wasn't afraid of Wes Clyde, not in the least. “Are you sure? It’s a Christmas party and everything…”

Ethel gave a defiant nod and crossed her arms. “Quite sure. You don’t need to keep coming back to try and make me join you and your… your…”

“Yes…?” Ethel scowled when Mr. Clyde smirked at her, looking amused, as though he couldn’t wait to hear what she wanted to call him and his people.

“You and your band of low-lives.”

“Low-lives…? That’s just hurtful…” Ethel momentarily looked surprised when she heard those words, staring up into those yellow eyes. But when she saw the smirk on Mr. Clyde’s face, however, she knew he wasn't actually hurt – and there was no need to be sympathetic. “We’re proper folks. We run a business, just like you. Don’t you profit off our work?”

“If you mean all those supposed accidents…” Ethel said, squinting slightly up at Mr. Clyde, who grinned down at her. He took a step back and reached into his jacket pocket.

“That I do, li’l missy,” he told her casually, pulling out a cigarette and a light. Ethel didn’t even get a chance to tell him not to smoke in her studio before he lit the cigarette, slipping it between his lips. When he exhaled, he was at least kind enough to blow the smoke away from Ethel. “Don't try to change the subject, though – you’re profiting off our handiwork too.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” she snorted at him, arms crossed as she looked up at him. “I just report on what your people are doing.”

The black cat gave a snort of his own and blew smoke to a point right above Ethel's head. “And you make how much as a radio host…?”

At this Ethel fell silent, scowling at the taller male, who grinned at her in a triumphant way. He took another drag of his cigarette, before he gestured towards the door. “Come, let’s go for a walk, li’l missy.”

A walk alone with him of all people? The thought made Ethel grimace slightly. She wasn't going to walk the cold streets with a man like Wes Clyde. “And what makes you think I’d want to be seen with you? I don’t want to be associated with you Marigolds…!”

“And people say I’m nasty,” the weasel-faced cat said, though he didn’t look like her words actually hurt him. “Please, just a short li’l walk. It’s nothing major, I just want to talk business…”

“I’m not doing business with you people, I already-”

“Or we can just talk,” the taller cat said, shrugging. He flashed the gray cat a grin and blew smoke towards the floor of all places. Ethel watched as the cloud of cigarette smoke made impact with the floor, washing over her feet before it dissipated. “Can’t blame a man for yearning for some lovely company, now can you?”

Ethel faltered slightly, fixing Mr. Clyde with a rather suspicious look. His words were dripping with a smarminess she wasn't quite sure she liked. The American Curl raised an eyebrow at him, while he simply returned it with a look to match his tone of voice.

As it turned out, the night air was indeed rather cold, which was no surprise. Clad in a thick, warm winter coat, Ethel stepped out onto the street. She could feel the air nipping at her face whenever a breeze blew past and she could see her breath in the air before her. The sky above the city was mostly clear, though the streets were still covered in quite a bit of snow, especially the sidewalks.

“Why are you really here?” Ethel asked as she turned to Mr. Clyde, the tall, hunched cat smirking at her. He'd thrown a coat of his own on as well on the way out, though it didn’t look particularly warm to Ethel. “Surely you didn’t stop by just to give me an invitation…”

“Maybe I did,” the black cat responded with a shrug. When he started walking by Ethel’s side, he offered his arm to her, though she simply looked at it as though it were a venomous snake that could strike at any time. When she didn’t take it, Mr. Clyde simply chuckled. “What’s it to you anyway?”

“I just don’t imagine you coming to hassle a radio host is actually part of your job…” the shorter cat noted coolly. When the hunched man chuckled, she turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “… what?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised, li’l missy. You ain't the first radio host I've had to have a little talk with,” Mr. Clyde told her rather cryptically. They walked down the darkened street at a slow pace, snow crunching under their boots. Thankfully it wasn't too slippery, the soles of Ethel's winter boots thankfully keeping her mostly secure on her feet.

“A little talk? Who else did you talk to?” she asked, tone suspicious as she looked up at him. She knew quite a few other people who worked in radio, though not all of them did so as regularly as she did. She broadcast when she was able to, whether that be in the morning or the afternoon. Not many radio shows had set schedules, hers certainly didn’t, for the most part.

“Oh, really only that Morrison fella. But he wasn't as interesting as you, I've got to admit,” Mr. Clyde told her, smirking at her. “Nor would I want to invite that guy to a party…”

Once more Ethel looked at the black cat in surprise. He offered her his arm again, but she still didn’t take it. He didn’t appear to mind, however, and simply continued walking by the gray cat’s side. Ethel cleared her throat some. “You really want me to go, don’t you? I’m starting to think it’s personal and not business, Mr. Clyde…”

This time, it was the weasel-faced cat who fixed her with a curious glance. Mr. Clyde looked surprised, but quickly resumed smirking at her. “Well, in that case, you may call me Wes, li’l missy.”

Ethel's left ear gave an irritated flick. “Could you please stop calling me that?”

“What, you don’t like it? Fine, fine, Ms. Freeman.” Ethel stumbled lightly, a particularly slippery patch of ice under her foot. She had to grab the nearest thing and that just so happened to be the black cat’s arm. He was clearly taken by surprise as she nearly pulled him down with her, but he steadied himself to keep her from falling.

“Ah, now you’ll hold my arm – when you almost fall,” Wes teased her, smirking as they moved past the slippery area and turned a corner. Ethel let go almost immediately, however and simply walked beside him again.

“Trust me, I didn’t enjoy it,” she told him, though she felt her cheeks warming noticeably in the cold winter night. Ethel adjusted her spectacles as they continued on their way, though before long she realized how far away from her studio he was taking her. She’d hoped it would be a short walk around the block, but realized she had been foolish in her assumption. Ethel stopped.

“What’s the matter?” Wes asked, turning back towards her. He watched the American Curl with a look of intrigue. He smirked a bit when he seemed to realize. “Come now, it’s not far…”

“I’m not going into that… that…”

“That what?” Wes was almost sneering at her as he lit another cigarette.

“That den of lions!”

“Please, as if I’d let anything happen to you. You'd be our special guest for the night, there’s no need to make a fuzz, li’l missy.” He gave a snort, before taking the first drag of the cigarette. Wes extended his arm to Ethel once more, tilting his head slightly upwards, giving her a different view of his scarred face, looking almost pleasant – almost handsome… “What do you say?”

Ethel stood by the taller cat, frowning up at him. She looked back the way they'd come from, then up ahead. She knew that he was leading her further and further away from her studio. Her eyes met his for a moment, before she broke eye contact again. “… is it far?”

“Not at all, li’l missy, just another few blocks – faster to get there than to go back,” Wes insisted, grinning down at her. He offered her his arm yet again. Despite herself, Ethel took hold. Through his clothes, she could feel that he had quite a bit of lean muscle. The slender black cat looked particularly pleased with himself as he guided her along.

Ethel didn’t know much about Wes’ employers other than the fact that they dabbled in very unsavory business. She’d been exposed to Marigold thanks to her fascination with crime and the various stories that tended to pop up. She knew for a fact that he worked for people who weren't exactly on the proper side of the law. What would it even be like to be among people like that?

“See, this ain't so bad, is it?” Wes asked, flashing her another smirk as he guided her down the street. Ethel said nothing. She wasn't so sure. He was starting to act considerably nicer, but was it all an act to lure her in and spring a trap on her?

“It’s… something,” Ethel half-muttered, her brain going over the possible scenarios. Did she know too much? Was that why he was bringing her in? Or were they going to plant evidence on her or have her incriminated in some other way?

“You’re shaking.” Wes’ words caught Ethel off-guard. She turned to look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Well, you are.”

“It’s cold,” she simply noted, gripping his arm more firmly, as if to show her displeasure in a more physical manner.

“That it is, li’l missy, that it is…” he noted, blowing smoke up towards the sky, before it dissipated into the cool night air. “If you’re scared, you've got nothing to worry about. You can trust me.”

“But if I don’t…?” she asked, stopping in her tracks. Wes stopped with her and watched her for a moment. Then he let out a short laugh. “… what’s so funny?”

“Oh, I just find it funny – here you are holding my arm like we’re on a date and yet… you don’t trust me?” the black cat sneered down at her. Ethel cleared her throat, but said nothing, leaving the weasel-faced cat to chuckle to himself. “Don't be scared, li’l missy, I’ll take good care of you.”

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy fanfiction #lackadaisy oc #oc x canon #lackadaisy wes #wes clyde

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