The bar was lively, filled with laughter and chatter as Pierry’s birthday party unfolded. You leaned casually against the counter, your drink in hand, giggling with your friends as the music hummed in the background. The atmosphere was lighthearted, and maybe it was the alcohol loosening your tongue, or maybe it was just your way of brushing off the butterflies that had been stirring in your stomach all evening.

"Lando's a bit of a jerk, and he's got that funny accent.” you said, smirking as you exaggerated your mocking tone. Your friends burst into laughter, fueling your drunken confidence "Can I have your number?" you added, mimicking his British lilt, your imitation drawing more giggles from the group.

But then, something shifted. Your friends’ laughter trailed off, their wide eyes fixing on a point behind you. The panic written across their faces was unmistakable. You froze mid-laugh, the realization dawning far too late.

"Nice to know my accent amuses you.” came Lando’s voice, sharp but laced with an amused undertone. You turned slowly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you came face-to-face with him.

He stood there, hands casually tucked into his pockets, an eyebrow raised and a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes sparkled with curiosity, as if waiting to see how you’d recover from this rather mortifying situation.