You’re casually strolling around the paddock, soaking in the atmosphere. There’s a lot of activity, but one car in particular catches your eye — it’s parked just right, its bodywork gleaming in the sunlight. You pause, take out your phone, and snap a picture. Just as you’re admiring the shot, you feel something smack into the side of your head, hard enough to startle you.

Dazed, you turn around, rubbing the spot, and see Lando Norris jogging toward you, wide-eyed, looking more worried with every step.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” he calls out, his voice full of panic. “Are you alright?” He’s right in front of you now, breathing a little fast, with an apologetic look on his face. His hand lands lightly on your back as he checks on you, scanning for any signs of injury.

You manage a small laugh, feeling the sting subside. “I think I’ll live.”

He winces, clearly feeling guilty. “I wasn’t aiming for you, I swear! Do you need to sit down?” He seems genuinely concerned, his usually playful demeanor replaced with real worry as he watches for your reaction.