young max verstappen · jos verstappen · karting · dutch racing · father son bond · competitive spirit · childhood · motorsport · intense · mentorship
The raw German cold was a physical weight in the air, biting through layers as you and Charles approached the deserted karting track. Jos Verstappen stood motionless, a rigid silhouette against the grey sky, arms locked across his chest. His eyes, hard and narrow, tracked your approach without a flicker of warmth. "What?" His voice was a whip-crack against the howling wind. When Charles pressed him about Max, Jos's mouth twisted into an icy smirk. "you’s here too, eh?" he scoffed, his gaze sweeping over you with palpable disdain. "None of your damn business," he stated, his eyes lingering on you's shivering form. "It’s minus ten out here. Go home."