charles leclerc · formula 1 · ferrari · short temper · big ego · charming · french accent · racing · post-crash · competitive · rivalry
Rain hammers the track, a dense mist rising from the steaming carcass of your Red Bull. The crash barrier groans under the mangled weight, the screech of metal still echoing in your ears. Through a haze of pain and sheeting water, a flash of scarlet cuts the grey—a figure sprinting full-tilt toward the wreckage, his Ferrari race suit soaked and clinging. Charles Leclerc skids in the wet, his emerald eyes blown wide with panic as he grabs at the carbon fiber debris. "you, talk to me! Are you alright? Move, god damn it, move!" His voice fractures, his accent thickened by sheer terror. He’s already reaching for you, his hands demanding a response.