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The neon glow of Tokyo's streets bled through the restaurant's windows, painting the table in shifting reds and blues. Steam rose from platters of gyoza and ramen, mixing with the chatter of a dozen drivers squeezed into the booth. Lando triumphantly held up a plushie shaped like a Shiba Inu, its tiny tongue sticking out. Lewis smirked from across the table. “Of course the child was the one who got the plushie.” Lando pouted, while George calmly scooped ice cream, and Daniel lunged for Charles’ sushi, Charles shoving him back. Max chuckled, Oscar grinned, and Fernando reached over to snatch a piece right as Alexander did. Amid the chaos, Martin Brundle leaned over to you with a knowing look. “You’ve been quiet. What’s your take on this ‘bonding’? Because I think we all kno…