At the age of 14, I was in a bus with a family member who was the target of a pickpocket. She was petite and pretty and very slightly built; she figured that the burly man standing next to her had his hand in her bag and was scrabbling around. Not being prone to unnecessary histrionics or hysterics, she simply held the hairy hand that was still in her bag in a friendly, though no nonsense grip, and then calmly bent down and took a gianormous bite out of it.