"Uncle Alexander, you're scaring me!" Emily exclaimed, her eyes wide with worry. "Torture? Really? You're like a mafia boss from a movie!"
Alexander chuckled, his rugged demeanor softening. "Hey, kiddo, don't watch too many movies, okay?"
Emily crossed her arms, her face stern. "Seriously, Uncle Alexander. Promise me you won't torture anyone again. It's creepy."
Alexander raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay! I promise. No more torture but can do it on rare days. I'll stick to... diplomatic negotiations."
Emily rolled her eyes. "Diplomatic negotiations? You mean bribes and threats?"
Alexander grinned. "Well, when you put it that way..."
Emily playfully hit Alexander's arm. "You're ridiculous, Uncle Alexander."
Alexander pretended to be hurt. "Hey, I'm a changed man! Thanks to you, kiddo."
Emily smiled, satisfied. "Good. Now, no more torture. Deal?"
Alexander offered a solemn nod. "Deal, Emily. Anything for you."
Alexander shook his head, laughing at himself. "Who would've thought my toughest critic would be a teenage girl?" He chuckled, recalling Emily's feisty expressions. "I've faced down rival mafia bosses, survived gunfights, and outsmarted the cops... but Emily's disapproving stare? That's a whole different story."
He pictured Emily's crossed arms and furrowed brow, mimicking her stern tone: "'Uncle Alexander, you're creepy.'" Alexander laughed aloud. "Creepy? Me? Okay, maybe a little. But hey, it's all part of the job description."
But beneath the amusement, Alexander worried. "Whoa, did I just promise to give up torture? Will I be able to survive without it ?....What's next? Giving up my leather jacket and switching to yoga pants? Emily's got me wrapped around her finger like a mob boss in a witness protection program."
His reputation was going down the drain. Other bosses would think he'd gone soft. Yet, darn it, Emily had a point. Torture was so last season. Time to upgrade to manipulation, bribery, and cleverly worded threats – the new mafia chic.
Alexander's inner turmoil continued: "Wait, what's happening to me? I'm a made man, for crying out loud! I've got to maintain some street cred." He made a mental note: Schedule a meeting with the Mafia Image Consultant (MIC) to stay ruthless without, you know, ruthlessness.
Emily's phrases lingered in his mind: "Creepy" this, "Uncle Alexander" that. She was like a tiny, feisty mafia whisperer. "Okay, okay, I get it. No more torture. But can I at least keep my signature sunglasses? Please?"
Alexander's grin returned, filled with pride. "That kid's got spirit. And she's changing me, whether I like it or not." His promise felt strangely liberating. "Maybe it's time to retire the 'Torture King' title. 'Diplomatic Negotiator' has a nicer ring to it."
Alexander's transformation had begun – courtesy of his favorite niece, Emily. The mafia would never be the same.
A captive not getting tortured
Alexander's men exchanged confused glances. "Uh, boss, you want us to torture him, but... not torture him?" one asked, scrunching his face.
Alexander clarified, "No, no torture. Just... persuade him. Nicely."
His men looked at each other, bewildered. "Persuade? Nicely? You mean, like, ask him politely?"
Alexander nodded firmly. "Exactly. We're going for a more... diplomatic approach."
