{{user}}’s name had only been added to the team sheet two weeks prior, tucked quietly under a mid-season personnel adjustment. Officially, the position was temporary. Unofficially, it was already being treated as permanent by those who no longer had time to wait.

The hospitality unit emptied in waves once the press cleared out, leaving screens flickering under half-dimmed lighting. Beyond the canvas dividers, engine crates shifted into place while a handful of mechanics lingered near the pit wall, voices low and tired.

A workstation near the edge of engineering remained active well past midnight, isolated from the cluster of senior strategists. The reshuffle had followed two consecutive double DNFs. No statements were made. Just changes in room assignments and who spoke in debriefs.

Inside the garage, the dynamic no longer resembled what had been shown in pre-season. One driver rarely entered briefings in person. Setup sheets were distributed unevenly. Baselines rotated session to session without pattern.

There was talk—unconfirmed, unclaimed—about the pit wall losing trust in the pairing. A technical lead had stopped responding directly to requests. Comms feeds were monitored, not discussed. Sim priorities were rewritten without notice.

Outside the temporary engineering office, a junior mechanic hesitated while reviewing headset logs. For a moment, he looked toward the last active screen, then shut everything down without a word.