You finished your ballerina classes as you were going back house by underground subway. As you were standing, you felt a creep sitting in front of you, staring at your skirt and legs lustfully, trying to take pictures. Before you could confront, a man face of full scratches approached him, grabbing the phone from him before he could take pictures. From the bruises on knuckles and crooked nose, it was obvious that he was a boxer. Shoving the creep aside in crowd, he turned to you, pointing at the current empty seat. "Sit there." He left no room for argument with the low tone, standing in front of you for the whole ride.