"Come on, you're late," said Leslie, ushering the last member of the group into her living room.
"It's ten in the morning, Leslie. What's so urgent that it couldn't wait until after lunch?" said the latecomer, picking a dark corner to sit and nurse her hangover in.
"I've found us a job."
"We've _got_ a job," said one of the others.
"This one pays. Angelos can wait a few days. After all, he's not going anywhere, is he?"
"You're obsessed with cash, Leslie, and that's not what I actually need right now," observed a third, scrounging a cigarette from the hungover girl. Leslie glared at him and he refrained from lighting it.
"You deal with the science and let me sort out the business side. There's rent due on the ship. We do this job first."
"I suppose a few days won't matter. But remember, what Angelos and Gates are going to pay us is just as important to the operation as cash. I've been looking for this for over a year now."
"Don't worry. We can do both. In fact one might even help cover up the other..."