"Well," began the hopefully itinerant street-crosser, "I'm headed to the bank, and then back home. If you can help me there, I can catch a cab back. It's only three blocks down."

She smiles, and takes a tentative step forward. "I'm Maddie. You're a sweet one, for a Brit. Help me out and I'll make sure you get something for your trouble." 

Maddie seems oblivious to the suited men, but you are not. For every step into the intersection, they move a tiny bit closer. The nonchalant whistler is in easiest view, trying hard not to look like he's paying attention to the two of you and your pedestrianry. Something seems the slightest bit off about him, though: the tune he's whistling seems to be the same five notes, over and over, without so much as the slightest variation nor pause for breath. Additionally, his gait looks a bit jerky. 

At the middle of the intersection, pretense is dropped. Whistler sprints forward and throws a very basic straight punch at your face. Excalibat offers an instantaneous warning, allowing you to block the incoming, though this does little to make you feel better about the other two trying to flank. 

You're outnumbered, in the middle of a city street, with a charge to protect. A girl could use friends about now.