She'd noticed the gentleman earlier, but only in the way you notice anyone's presence in a store: just another body in one's midst, noteworthy only for being well-dressed. That lone detail still surprises her when he steps in, as grateful as she is for the intervention.

"This young man here was trying to take an exorbitant protection fee," she explains. No matter how steeled she is, there's a particular jitteriness in nearly getting grabbed; she talks quickly. "I told him to leave."

The gang member interjects: "Hey, who the fuck do you think you are?"