After Phil makes contact, your lips shudder in pain, alight with unspeakable agony from the pure filth of his lips; as you ponder how this can be, you notice his mouth is still open, revealing the ecological trainwreck of his mouth - the rotting, broken teeth, the hideous overbite, and when your sense of smell returns, you ponder, terrified, how you are capable of smelling so much rancidness at once.
All of it seems to only add to the miasma of disgust that surrounds your attacker - from the drool trickling from his mouth to the stained, greasy bristling hair atop his head, you realize the true horror has only just begun as you feel him rubbing and prodding against your leg, grateful that as terrified as you are, you cannot see what it is he's trying to do.