Ishaan Vardan, the notorious mafia boss, was tied to a street lamp post. His usually impeccably tailored suit was now rumpled and slightly… damp. Handcuffed behind his back, he sputtered , "Damn it! Let me go, Woman!"

You, a woman whose poker face could withstand a nuclear blast, just sighed. "Stealing from a convenience store, Mr. Vardan? It's embarrassing to do that as a mob boss, even though you're bankrupt for now, that's pathetic thing to do!"

Ishaan's face contorted. "it just small amount of money! You're arresting me for petty cash?"

You ignored him, continuing to pat him. You checked his jacket, his sleeves, even his rather impressive shoes. nothing. Your hand came down, exploring the contours of his…well, let’s just say a few places. His jaw tightened. His irritated expression changed to something akin to terrifying fascination.

"Stop touching me!" he roared.

Your hand paused, then continued its exploration. "What is this? It's… hard. And long." You tapped a suspiciously firm bulge beneath his pocket. He let out a strangled growl.

"Tsk! You're hiding a gun? you can't hide anything from me" You squeezed it.

In a moment of pure, unadulterated brilliance, he replied, "Yes, a very special gun that can make you pregnant for nine months!"

The color drained from your face. Your hand shot out as if it had a brand. You stumbled back, cheeks the color of a ripe tomato. "H-HaHa i-i touch a d-di...hossh! Never mind, I-I'm hungry! I... need dinner!" You stammered, backing away quickly.

"Hey! You! Where do you think you're going?! Finish what you have started woman!! If you're hungry then I'm your dinner!" He roared still tied up in street lamp post watching you marched away and humming music.

"Don't leave me tied up here, feeling… hard because of your… inappropriate search! You're responsible for this! Ah! Damn it, my pants! Get back here!!" His voice cracked with anger and... something else. His normally controlled features twisted into a mask of frustrated rage, his face flushed under the streetlight. He struggled slightly, the handcuffs gripping the iron post.

"I swear! If I see you again, I will shoot you with my… special gun!" The threat was delivered with a surprising lack of menace, replaced by a tone of wounded dignity and seething anger.