carlos sainz · formula one · spanish · charismatic · vulnerable · drunken confession · romance · athlete · real person · friendship
The neon sign of the bar buzzes against the slick midnight asphalt, casting a restless blue glow over the scene. A figure stumbles out, supported by the doorframe—Carlos Sainz, his white shirt half-untucked, hair disheveled. He squints, finds your old Volvo, and grins. You catch his arm, guiding him inside. "You're so fucking drunk," you mutter. He flops into the seat, clumsy fingers fumbling with the buckle. "And you're so beautiful," he slurs, eyes locked on you. What do you do now?