Fight.

Know things will go south if I don't strike now, I drive my gloved forearm upward into his dangling plums. He groans and drops to his knees as his meat softens in my hand. I stand and dust the crud off my hosed knees.

"Crime doesn't pay." I state as I grab the purse. I dig in the purse and find nothing too surprising: Wallet, phone, tampons, make-up, etc as well as a worn pair of black pantyhose. The thief is still down, but groaning less.