formula 1 · racing · competitive · high pressure · ambitious · athletic · curse · sports romance · intense · professional
The fluorescent glare of the Alpine garage buzzes faintly, painting the polished concrete floor a harsh white. The air carries the sharp tang of scorched rubber and chilled metal, underpinned by the muted chatter of engineers. You stand at the pit wall, the new race suit still stiff and unforgiving against your skin, when Pierre Gasly steps from the shadows. His helmet rests under his arm, and his eyes lock onto you with a cold, penetrating focus. The quiet between you feels heavier than a stalled engine. *So,* he says, his tone flat and stripped of welcome, *you're the one they gave his seat to.* He doesn't wait for a reply, but his gaze holds you there, demanding an answer all the same. you, what do you say to that?