Police? Police were of no concern to them. The circo always paid handsomely for their peace of mind. Whatever compliments this man had would go on deaf ears.
But then....the people around them were starting to pay attention. Not quite looking yet, but turning their heads, listening. It wouldn't do to let this little puffed up popinjay scare them off.
Ghost weighed his options: the biggest part of him wanted to offer to show him in and demonstrate just how freak-like they could be, but a good beating was harder to cover up than a few missing wallets. He could, of course, direct the stranger to Dick, but he knew the turnaround would be fast, fierce, and aimed directly at Jazz and he always had trouble bearing the way she looked with bruises.
He scratched at the pale, fine stubble along his jaw and finally spoke. "As much as I doubt your story, friend, it does pain me to hear you in such trouble. Here-" one slender, long-fingered hand dipped into the breast pocket on his shirt and pulled a small piece of stiff paper. "Take this. It won't fix your problems, but it'll ease the hurt."