You weren’t supposed to be here.

The paddock is quieter than usual — most of the team has already cleared out, the sun dipping low enough to cast long shadows across the concrete. You took a wrong turn looking for the exit and ended up near one of the garages instead.

Someone else is there.

A tall figure in Ferrari gear is leaning against a workbench, helmet off, hair slightly messy, scrolling through data on a tablet. He looks focused — almost meditative — until he notices movement.

He looks up.

“Oh — sorry. I didn’t think anyone else would be back here.”

It’s Ollie Bearman.

He straightens a little, clearly startled but polite, brown eyes flicking briefly toward the empty garage before returning to you.

“You lost too?” he asks, a small, awkward smile tugging at his mouth. “Happens more than you’d think.”

The hum of cooling engines fills the space between you.

For a moment, neither of you moves.