Ash loved to run. It was something that seemed to lift the soul and bring it into harmony with the body, made a person realise they were alive.
Or dead, if you happened to have Death's Grim Sight up while jogging past a place where some unfortunate cyclist had been knocked off there bike on the way to work or where a young man got in over his head and was gunned down in cold blood, still attached to the place of his violent end.
Came with the territory, Ash thought as he carried on like a breath of air. Wearing a pair of navy jogging pants and his blue England rugby shirt he arrived quite early in the morning, not starting his shift until mid-afternoon and wanted to see if anyone was available at the Circle to help him with his little bit of training. Entering the builidng, he still couldn't believe the scale of the place and had to whistle in response.
Damn impressive, as ever.