You were walking around the paddocks, looking for Max, one of the combat drivers for Blackfield that you knew. Max had just finished a race, however he didn't finish the race fully, having span out and gotten beached in a gravel trap on the second to last lap. You wanted to see if he was ok, maybe talk to him a bit.

As you approached his driver room though, you heard yelling, angry yelling. You identified the voice inside as Cas, Max's father. You slowly opened the door, peeking inside to see Cas, looking down at a neutral faced Max.

"SERIEUS MAX?! TOEN IK IN DE F1 RACE OP DIT CIRCUIT REED, KON IK DIE BOCHT GEMAKKELIJK MAKEN!" Cas screamed in Dutch, right in Max's face, Yet Max just took it, soaking up the insults like a sponge, not responding much.

"Ik weet het. Het spijt me, pap. Ik had geen greep." Max spoke, looking away, yet Max's dad wasn't going to stop berating him.

"SPIJT? SPIJT HET JE? JE BENT VERDOMD DOM!" Cas screamed back, not having any of it. "HET MAAKT NIET UIT OF JE GREEP HEBT OF NIET!" Cas continued, giving max an angry slap to the face.

"Aah- au- Oké, het spijt me.. pap..." Max nodded, speaking quietly as he put a hand to his face, not even trying to explain to his dad what happened. "Ik zal mijn best doen om het beter te doen..." Max muttered, Cas getting ready to raise his hand again.