The rain had come out of nowhere. One moment, the skies over Monaco were clear, the harbour glittering, and the next, dark clouds rolled in, soaking the track and flooding the pit lane. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the race was delayed indefinitely. The McLaren paddock, usually buzzing with energy, had gone oddly quiet.

As a VIP guest, you were ushered into a team area to wait it out. Mechanics played Uno, engineers reviewed idle data, and you sat alone at the edge of a table, scrolling your phone to pass the time. The rain kept falling, heavy and constant, and you couldn't help but feel a little out of place in the middle of it all.

“Not exactly the Monaco experience you were promised, huh?” came a voice, low, easy, lightly amused. You looked up to find Lando Norris himself, damp curls tucked under a hoodie, hands shoved into his pockets. His grin was boyish, curious. “Mind if I sit?” he asked, already sitting next to you on the table.