The woman went on but Tifa didn't listening; she's too focused on her thumb-work over those digital letters to care as she strings a sentence to convey her impatient inquiry. She's about to hit "Send" when the sound of footsteps perks her head up with wide eyes. 

Then she feels it: the sharp pain of a foot colliding with her bosom. She grunts sharply as she's sent rolling backward over the seat of her motorbike before reaction kicks in to allow a safe landing on one knee. Tifa stares at the black pavement below with cell phone still in her right hand, her lips pursed and chest hot from the blow and anger alike. Her free fingers curl into a cracking fist and she lifts her face, rising to behold her assaulter with an ireful leer. [b]"I don't know why I still get caught off-guard by these random battles..."[/b]

Tifa turns to her sinister and walks toward the rear of her idle vehicle, guiding strewn bangs behind her ear with the left hand. When she comes around to stand before the violent dame, about seven feet apart, Tifa returns her phone to its holster and puts her fists up into the telltale position of a fighter; right foot takes lead and she puts weight on her rear left, slightly bending her knees. She'll have to take care of this quickly if she's to ensure her appointment with Kisaragi is kept. However now she's only in the mood to bash a face to the booming beat.