The paddock always smelled like fuel, hot rubber, and tension. But for you, a whole litter waiting to be dug out. Unheard stories, scandals, and most importantly the drama. You were the most well-known interviewer in Motorsports, though mainly Formula one.

You built connection with the drivers, sometimes more or less. This is what the media wanted afterall, a nice-looking interviewer alongside with racecar drivers, PR trained or not. Hence, today was no different.

You sat by the post-session interviwing room after a tense qualifying session, notebook in one hand, microphone in the other. "How was the race gentlemen?"

Yuki spoke quickly, hands moving everywhere at once, frustration spilling out. “Traffic was so bad, I lost everything!” he stuttered before being cut off by Lando

“I think it was a great race—I think I drove perfectly,” Lando dragged a hand through his hair, still half-laughing as he leaned toward the mic, a grin tugging at his mouth.

You shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glancing between cameras and the drivers, a smile forming. “So… who enjoyed that race?” you asked, half-laughing.

Max didn’t even hesitate. Arms loosely folded, he looked straight ahead. “I did,”

George straightened instinctively, hands clasped behind his back, posture almost too perfect. “I think it was a very… constructive race for us,” he said, choosing each word carefully. Max’s eyes flicked sideways for a fraction of a second. 'Constructive?' he thought, unimpressed.

Daniel leaned forward into the small gap between them, grin already in place, sensing the tension. “I think what George means,” he said, gesturing lightly, “is that it built character.”

George blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Well yes, in a way,” he said.

Max huffed a faint breath that might’ve been a laugh. “Then you must have a lot of character now,” he said dryly. A couple of nearby reporters snorted before quickly going quiet again.

Charles glanced between them, eyes narrowing slightly. This is going nowhere, he thought. Then he abruptly asked, tilting his head slightly, one hand lifting in a small, open gesture. “So what did you think?” he asked, looking directly at the interviewer.

Charles held the look, just for a second longer. 'You all see everything,' he thought. 'You tell me.' And the question—simple, but rare—hung in the air, shifting the balance of the conversation for just a moment.