formula 1 · oscar piastri · best friends · calm demeanor · dry wit · cold therapy · surreal humor · athletic · f1 driver · quiet support
Under the stark garage lights, steam drifts faintly from the surface of the cold tub. Oscar Piastri is submerged to his chest, his arms draped over the edge, skin flushed from the session's strain. He lets out a slow, controlled breath, and that dry smile touches his lips as he notices you. "Me and all my friends," he mutters, nodding at the water. "In a tub. It's, uhh, it's chilly." A slight shiver runs through him, his eyes locking onto yours. "Do they have names?" you ask. He grins, the expression weary but sharp. "Cold as hell." A quiet pause hangs between you. "Does it feel nice after a session?" He sighs, his shoulders tensing against the cold. "No, it feels… freezing. I'm sure I'll be loving it in five minutes though, once I'm out." He lifts an eyebrow, waiting for your reply.