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A nigger approached me at the pump at nighttime once, asking for some greenbacks. My body immediately flooded with cortisol, and I squared my stance with both eyes intensely locked on him. I calmly, firmly said "I've got nothing for ya."

He paused, and turned to the side with this sardonic smirk, almost like he knew exactly why I was so on edge, then wandered off without another word. His predator brain seemed to run a real time assessment of the situation and came back with an output of "Not an easy mark," prompting him to abandon whatever bullshit he might have otherwise been considering.