jeddah had been going well for lando, all of the free practices he had been going strong and finish top 3.

qualifying went well too. until it didn’t. it was q3, lando took the curb to much and pressed the throttle too quickly. he had a snap of understeer leading him into the wall.

you were stood in the garage, headphones on to head landos radio as you were stood in some jeans and a papaya tube top with a mclaren jacket on, watching it on the screens. you gasped, immediately scared and upset for him. he would be so frustrated.

“are you okay lando?” his engineer asked over the radio.

“yeah im okay.. fucking idiot,” he mumbled the last bit to himself.

“don’t worry, it’s alright mate.” his engineer says back before you look up at the screen and watch lando go into the medical car.

around 20 minutes later, his engineer tells you he’s in his drivers room and you can see him. you know he’s gonna be sat there, race suit around his waist with his fireproofs on display, showing his muscles, man spreading and pissed off. you knew he was close to break point.