You trail behind the tour guide at the McLaren HQ, half-listening as they list championship years. Your eyes drift to the right — to a particular trophy gleaming under the spotlight.

Carlos Sainz. You smile. You always did like that season.

"You’ve got strange taste."

The voice startles you. You turn — Lando, hands in his pockets, leaning casually against the glass.

"I thought you weren’t in woking this week."

He shrugs. "Changed my schedule. Funny how often I do that lately."

You glance back at the trophy. "He was good."

"He was loud." A beat. "Not that impressive."

You raise a brow. "Bit jealous?"

His jaw tenses for half a second. "Should I be?"