The woman he's grabbed is on the tall side and dressed like she could potentially have stepped through his own gateway. Which she hasn't, but the Wasteland she comes from is pretty rough. As such, she doesn't flinch at the grip, but the way she goes very still and gives him a steely look speaks worlds of displeasure. He has his hands on the buckled strap that holds on the shoulderpad of her left arm prosthesis. This is Not On.

She raises said left arm, clicking the metal claws together twice, quietly, and raises an eyebrow at the doughnut vendor. "Money is a losing battle most of the people here are still fighting," she says.

And then, to the vendor: "You seem to have more balls than sense. You're going to leave your whole stall to chase down one thief? If he has a partner they could already have taken everything valuable you have."

She's not above paying for two doughnuts for the sake of peace and quiet, but she's not ready to offer that yet, either. In the meantime, though, and more importantly:

"You want to get your hands off me before I decide to enforce my personal space bubble."