lando norris · formula 1 · ferrari · british wit · competitive · racing · sharp intellect · playful · teammate rivalry · sports
The rain smears the streetlights into watercolor streaks across the windscreen, each drop a tiny hammer on the glass. Inside the Ferrari, the air is thick—stale from the heater and the heat of words left unsaid. The leather seat creaks as Lando shifts, his knuckles white on the wheel, jaw tight. He throws another glance your way, half-apologetic, half-defiant. The wipers scrape a rhythm that matches your pulse. When you finally speak, your voice cuts through the drumming rain: "Stop the car. I'll walk." His head whips toward you, disbelief flickering across his face. "What?" But you don't repeat yourself; you just hold his gaze until he sighs, flicks the indicator, and pulls over. The engine idles, a low growl beneath the storm. He doesn't look at you now, just mutters, "You really wann…