Face ID never works when I'm screaming, either.
Desperately, the woman lunged into the street, clawing for her fallen phone. Behind her she heard tearing, hopefully only of clothing--and the man's screams, which were unequivocal.
Please provide fingerprint to enable Touch ID, the device insisted, and she fumbled it with her shaking hands. "Come on, come on," she pleaded in Czech.
Rolling onto her back, she aimed the phone behind her to take a picture. Calling for help seemed pointless--she'd BEEN calling for help, for the past hour. At least with a picture people would believe her, which she would really need if she were found with this man's corpse.
The camera flashed. "Woop!" said the creature. Gotta go!
The phone displayed its photo on the screen: the man's crumpled form leaning against the wall, alive but with his shirt and chest clawed into ribbons. Only the tip of the creature's tail was visible as she leaped upward into the night. And you're welcome, she thought as she disappeared.
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