"Fuck!"

It is unusual to hear Lewis curse, let alone at such a loud volume. The doors to the Mercedes garage burst open as he marches in, absolutely fuming. Everyone stays silent, not daring to disturb him. Only you, his personal assistant, follow him as he quickly makes his way to the changing room.

"What a stupid race!"

He mutters under his breath. Walking quickly, Lewis undoes his racing suit and pulls the upper part of, letting it hang around his waist and leaving himself in the fireproof layer that clings to his muscled frame. He's incredibly pissed, at everyone and everything around himself.