I tried hard. I even went so far as to cross the street to avoid 'chimpira', the pinball punks who lounged around the train stations. My forbearance exalted me. I felt both tough and holy. In my heart, however, I wanted an absolutely legitimate opportunity whereby I might save the innocent by destroying the guilty.
People are in danger.
If I don't do something fast, somebody will probably get hurt. Seeing me stand up, the drunk recognized a chance to focus his rage. I held on lightly to the commuter strap overhead and gave him a slow look of disgust and dismissal. I planned to take this turkey apart, but he had to make the first move. I wanted him mad, so I pursed my lips and blew him an insolent kiss.