The sort of person who gets up at six in the morning, according to Jasmine's mother, is the sort of person who works in an office and has to commute for at least an hour to get there. Jasmine had located the running track and was on her first lap by 5:15 am. By 5:45 she had completed ten laps of the 400m circuit and was ready for some breakfast and a large coffee. By 6:10 she was out of the shower and setting up the coffee machine to make four cups, two each, as Miss Pinky Perfect staggered in to the bathroom. She was sitting in the small lounge area reading when Tracy returned and started blathering about something called "oatmeal".<br/><br/>"Tracy, dear, I'm a Scot. Ye can keep yer ootmeal. Ah'll be haying parritch, but ye cannae mek it quick! Good poridge takes all night simmering on the lowest flame. You want quick, let's just slam some bread in the toaster." She somehow lost the worst of the accent part way through the little speech.<br/><br/>Toast and marmalade later, and after finishing her second cup of coffee, dressed in skin-tight faux-leather pants, a white tee shirt and a real leather jacket, with the Q-bag on her back and her rifle ammo stored safely inside it, she was ready.<br/><br/>"Right, lead on Fräulein Dekantochter..."