Tracy scoffed, but politely said, as she DID respect the man's reputation to save the world several times a year. "And I hated pigtails." She glared at her dad as he patted Bond's back. "It's Dean now that your old prep school is a college. Political Science will be her major I understand? Splendid. She and Tracy will most likely have a class they share, although my daughter is going into Criminology.... Come, some tea at my office, and a quick go over on the rules, my old friend and pupil. I'll try to be quick."<br/><br/>Tracy started walking towards the dorm after grabbing one of Jasmine's bags. "You can call me Tracy or Ms. Milbanks. Makes no nevermind to me, Ms. Bond." Her clear New York attitude up front and personal. "Your cousin was not exactly very forthcoming or on time. I hope you being here on time will be a sign you're vastly different from.... Ugh. Junior." She took Jasmine to the top of the three story dorm building and unlocked the key to her suite. "Since you're my roommate, you have half a large room, private bath you share with only me. No male visitors after six pm or when the dorm president, which is me, rings the curfew bell, usually during lockdowns. They are infrequent, but when Dad has the notion...." She pushed the door open, "Your keycard will be on your dresser, which is the one on the left." She pointed. It would most likely be the largest studio flat Jasmine would have ever seen, if not the cleanest. One thing about rooming with the dorm president, was they had a fully equipped kitchen, a standard loo, except an actual tub instead of a shower stall, but somehow enough room to turn around. The two queen size beds sat almost opposite each other. Tracy pointed to the one by the window. "Unless DAD orders me to switch, you'll have the window and scenic view of the sea all to yourself. Decorate how you want within these guidelines. Ms. Bond. Please do not be like your cousin and ignore reading the handbook." She set the bag on Jasmine's bed. "Good grief! What have you got in this thing?! Bricks?!" With a sigh, "I'll let you have some peace to unpack, and we take turns cooking. Daily. I've already got a small roast in the oven with potatoes and carrots, so you can start tomorrow morning with breakfast. As long as it's quick, as I have to introduce you to the instructors, not just yours, all of them, tomorrow. Take it up with my dad. That's what he ordered." She went into the kitchen, bent over the oven in something between a bunny bend and a regular, showing off her blue jeans and her hips, as she basted the roast.<br/><br/>Tracy's side was so neat, Jasmine could eat off the floor if she wanted, and her decor spoke stereotypical female jock (although track was the only thing she was in) with purples, oranges and football (soccer) players on her wall. One look at her half of the closet, would scream the lady seriously needed a wardrobe adjustment. Blue jeans and pink blazer shirts, seemed to be all she had, except a navy blue cocktail dress that didn't look like it had even been worn once. That, a little makeup on Tracy's dresser, along with pink lipstick and a few stuffed animals was all the feminity Jasmine would find upon first look. If she'd do a little snooping in the closet, in the back, she would find other things, more stuffed animals, an old Barbie Rock Star doll, and more feminine clothes like skirts and dresses packed in a box that said, "Do not open until the right one comes along" but the flaps closed, one half on top, the other half under the other flaps. And not sealed. Only Tracy knew why she kept the doll...