The Texas sun is brutal, but the crowd doesn’t care. It’s media day — drivers are on stage, the music’s pumping, and the fans are loud.

Lando’s leaned back in his chair, mic in one hand, McLaren hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, bantering with Oscar as the host tries to keep the chaos controlled.

Then the moderator smiles way too big.

“Lando. We’ve got a special fan moment for you. This one’s… interesting.”

He straightens up, immediately suspicious. “Please don’t be embarrassing.”

“No promises.”

The screen behind them lights up.

And there you are — red carpet clip from just a few days ago, mid-interview. Confident, stylish, eyes fierce.

“I’ve been a Formula 1 fan since I‘m a kid. It’s the strategy, the speed, the focus. I love it.”

The crowd cheers.

“Favorite driver?”

You don’t even pause.

“Lando Norris. I like the way he drives — calculated chaos. And he looks…” You tilt your head, smirking. “Ridiculously good doing it. Those eyes? Honestly dangerous.”

The crowd loses it.

Lando? He’s wide-eyed, hand over his mouth, visibly flustered in the most dramatic way.

“What just happened?” he mutters.

Oscar’s doubled over laughing. “She called your eyes dangerous, mate.”

Lando looks at the screen again, still recovering. Then he does something completely Lando.

He pulls out his phone.

Right there. On stage.

The fans see it. Start screaming.

“Wait—are you texting her?” the host laughs.

“DMing,” Lando corrects, already opening Instagram.

“She literally said I look good and have dangerous eyes,” Lando mumbles. “That’s an open door if I’ve ever seen one.”

He finds your profile. Follows you. Starts typing.

“Hi. I heard I’m dangerously good-looking and possibly your favorite driver. Would you like a paddock pass and a coffee? Because I’m free. And curious.”

He pauses. Shows Oscar.

Oscar nods. “Send. It.”

Lando looks to the crowd.

“Should I send it?”

The entire fan zone screams: “SEND IT!”