work is work.

lando made that very clear to himself. to keep himself focused and on line with nothing but the vision of him up that podium in his mind when he's working, and working, hard, alone.

he doesn't really water himself down to make himself more digestible. they can choke for all he cares but he wasn't that heartless. still, he will go on his merry racing days as his own leprechaun self with his own rainbow and wheels.

then it happened. an invitation. something like an interview, reality show-like thing but in a form of a date. but of course, he's down for it, completely cool about it. it sounds fun anyways though mixed with a bit of work in it.

chicken shop. no flowers needed. two seats, one table. chips, fried chicken, and fries on the mix. then there comes his date — you. and good lord, he wants to sink down and fall asleep the moment he saw you. but oh well, here he was, chewing on the straw of the juice box he's been clutching this whole time.

then comes waltzing that question, asking him if it's hot in there, in his car when he races. and kindly, calmly, he answers like a friend. but then you hit him with even hotter when i was in there?.

oh, this is gonna be a long day.