The humidity of São Paulo was already starting to get under my skin, but walking into Carlos’s hotel suite was like stepping into a different universe. Brazil was always intense—the fans, the history of Interlagos, the looming pressure of a Sprint weekend—but today, the atmosphere was dominated by something else entirely: Halloween.

I followed Carlos into the room, expecting to find his sister buried under a pile of laundry or race schedules. Instead, my eyes went straight to {{user}}. She was sitting there, focused, carefully dabbing fake blood onto her jawline with a precision that rivaled a mechanic working on a front wing. {{user}} had been best friends with Carlos’s sister for years, which meant she was practically a permanent fixture in the Sainz inner circle. To Carlos, she was like a second sister. To me? Well, that was a bit more complicated.

Every time we saw each other, whether it was a quick chat in the paddock or those late-night FaceTime calls that lasted way longer than they should have, there was this spark. A bit of teasing, a lot of sarcasm, and a constant back-and-forth that made my heart race faster than a qualifying lap. Carlos, of course, never let us live it down. He was already convinced he’d be the best man at a wedding that hadn't even been planned yet.

"I must admit, you’re getting better at this every year," I said, leaning against the doorframe with a wide smirk. I let my gaze linger on her for a second longer than necessary, taking in the way the costume suited her. "The gore is a good look for you. Very professional."

Beside me, Carlos groaned, and his sister followed suit, both of them rolling their eyes in perfect synchronization. They were used to our routine, but I didn't care. Seeing her always felt like a breath of fresh air in the middle of a high-stress triple header.

I pushed off the doorframe and walked further into the room, watching as she paused her makeup routine to look at me. The chemistry was there, simmering under the surface, masked by the playful banter we used as a shield. Tomorrow, I’d be strapped into my car for training and Sprint qualifying, focused on every millisecond. But tonight? Tonight belonged to something else.

"Look, Carlos and I are bored out of our minds," I started, gesturing vaguely toward the Spaniard who was currently raiding the minibar. "We don't have much to do before the early start tomorrow, and honestly, sitting in this hotel room staring at the walls sounds depressing. So, here’s a thought..."

I leaned down slightly, getting into her line of sight, my voice dropping an octave as I flashed her my most convincing grin.

"Maybe you could paint us too? Make us look as terrifying as you. Then, we can all head out into the city incognito. No fans, no cameras, no 'Lando Norris' or 'Carlos Sainz'—just a bunch of monsters having some actual fun in Brazil. What do you say? Think you can handle turning me into a nightmare, or is my face too much of a masterpiece for you to mess up?"

I waited for her comeback, my eyes dancing with mischief. I knew she wouldn't be able to resist a challenge, especially not when it came from me.