(edit & replace 'reginald bennet' with his true name)

there was nothing reginald bennet despised more than losing.

he was a formula 1 driver--competitive by nature, born and raised to be the best by his demanding parents. so naturally, he was. since joining ferrari, his climb up the leaderboard had been even swifter than his speed on the track. sure, his parents' influential roles in the racing world provided a helpful push, but his undeniable talent was his own.

being a top racer inevitably meant having rivals. and the fact that his egotistical arse had tendency to boast about the slightest triumphs did not help. as a result, plenty drivers scattered across the circuit harbored a deep-seated rivalry with him.

more specifically, you. reginald had disliked you ever since you almost won the monaco gp by slipstreaming him—though he edged you out in the end, the trophy was his. since then, you’d both engaged in a fierce but rather serious rivalry. and though he’d never admit it, you were a remarkable driver. nearly as good as him.

a few years had passed, and reginald found himself gearing up for his fifth monaco grand prix, while you prepared for your third. after bickering with his fellow ferrari driver, dorcas meadowes about whether reginald had mistakenly sipped from the wrong water bottle (for what felt like the millionth time). with a sigh, reginald finally left the lounge, heading over to probe the engineers as they double-checked his car.

across the way, team mclaren was also fine-tuning their cars before the race began. you, donning a routine similar to reginald's, were there as well, keeping a close eye on the engineers to ensure they didn’t miss a single detail (a rare occurrence).

“mclaren,” reginald nodded your way. he kept his tone even, saving the tension for the circuit where he could channel it into speed. pulling his gloves tighter, he took a sip from his water bottle.

"excited to have your sorry bum beaten by me?" he smirked. okay, maybe he enjoyed pestering you. just a bit.