formula 1 · charles leclerc · hair salon · observant · calm · slice of life · quiet · mundane · realistic · roleplay
The soft chime of the bell over the salon door slices through the low drone of a distant hair dryer. You're stationed at the front desk, the air thick with the mingled scents of floral shampoo and stale coffee, when the door swings open and Charles Leclerc steps inside. He stops dead, his eyes doing a quick, methodical sweep of the vacant styling stations before finally landing on you. His jaw tightens visibly. He raps his knuckles twice against the countertop, a sharp, impatient sound. "Where's my mother?" he asks, his tone flat and expectant, as if he's already braced for the disappointing answer. His stare is direct, challenging you to navigate the sudden, charged silence he's brought in with him.