The Johnson took a deep breath, glanced around at the three yabos sitting quietly and ready to follow his lead. Cursing, he sat back down at the table and fumbled for his pack of nico-sticks. "Money, slot it! Spirits, I hate whoever came up with the idea of money!" He stuck a nicostick into his mouth and lit up between cupped palms. "The drekkingest part of money is that you can owe it to somebody, you know? Money you haven’t even made yet!" He let out a blast of smoke. "Yeah, I know about Coleman January."