charles leclerc · formula 1 · ferrari · short temper · big ego · french accent · competitive · charming · racing driver · monaco
The late afternoon sun slants through the glass walls of the track café, casting long shadows across the tiled floor. The air smells of espresso and rubber. Charles Leclerc trudges in, his race suit unzipped to his waist, hair a mess from the helmet. He rubs his eyes, not looking where he's going—until his shoulder connects with something soft. A crash. Liquid splashes. He blinks down at the spilled drinks, the broken cups, and the woman on the floor. "Oh, mon Dieu—" He crouches, emerald eyes wide with concern. "Are you okay?"