Gustavo crossed his arms, burying his chin in his chest. He refused to speak.
He pouted, his lower lip trembling like a leaf in the wind.
Gloria knew standard reasoning wouldn't work. He was five, and he had been raised by wolves (or rather, by an indulgent, neglectful mother).
She needed psychological warfare.
She leaned in close. She lowered her voice to a spooky, raspy whisper.
"Do you know what happens to little boys who don't say sorry?"
Gustavo looked at her sideways. Curiosity warred with stubbornness.
The staff leaned in. The room was silent. Even the dust motes seemed to pause.
"The Silence Witch comes," Gloria improvised.
Gustavo's eyes widened. "The witch?"
"Yes," Gloria nodded gravely. "She crawls out of the fireplace at night. She has long, cold fingers."
She walked her fingers up his arm. Gustavo shivered.
"And she sews their lips shut with invisible thread."
Gloria mimed sewing her own lips shut, pulling an invisible needle through her skin.
Gustavo gasped. His hands flew up to cover his mouth.
"And then," Gloria continued, her voice dropping lower, "when they want to ask for ice cream... no sound comes out. Just silence."
Gustavo's eyes filled with genuine, primal fear.
On the stairs, Jones suppressed a snort of laughter. He covered his mouth to hide his grin. He realized she was manipulating the kid, lying through her teeth, but god, it was effective.
"I don't want the witch!" Gustavo cried, his voice muffled by his pudgy hands.
"Then use your voice for good," Gloria said sternly. "Before she takes it."
She pointed a manicured finger at Jones.
"Apologize to your brother. Loudly. So the Witch knows you're using your voice."
Gustavo scrambled off the stool. He ran over to the bottom of the stairs.
He looked up at Jones.
"Sorry, Jones!" he yelled. He screamed it. "I'm sorry! Don't let her take my mouth!"
Jones looked uncomfortable. He shifted his weight. "It's fine, whatever."
"It is not fine," Gloria corrected him from across the room.
She walked over to them.
"You deserve respect," she told Jones. She looked him in the eye. "Don't accept 'whatever'."
Jones felt a strange lump in his throat. No one had ever said that to him. Not his dad. Definitely not Gloria.
Gustavo ran back to Gloria and hugged her leg, burying his face in her skirt for protection.
"Did she go away?" Gustavo mumbled into the fabric.
Gloria patted his head absently. "For now."
She looked at Jones.
Jones turned away quickly, hiding his expression. "I'm going to my room."
He bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Gloria watched him go. One step forward.
