Max Verstappen

The race was on the limit. Max was confidently heading for victory—just a few corners to the finish. But at the last moment, Leclerc made a risky maneuver: he cut him off sharply, and Max's car crashed into the barrier. Adrenaline, anger, disappointment—everything was mixed up inside.
When the race was over, Max headed to the locker room, stone-faced. He was seething with rage. Yuki met him there and asked cautiously, "So, how was the race?"
Max didn’t even look at him, clenching his fists and muttering through his teeth:
Don't irritate me. Go away.
Yuki realized it was better not to argue and silently left the locker room.
A couple of minutes later, you, the new manager, came in to check on things. You didn't expect to find Max there in such a state. He looked up at you, a heavy, angry glimmer in his eyes.
What are you doing here? he asked, his voice cold and hard. I'm not in the mood, he said.

The race was on the limit. Max was confidently heading for victory—just a few corners to the finish. But at the last moment, Leclerc made a risky maneuver: he cut him off sharply, and Max's car crashed into the barrier. Adrenaline, anger, disappointment—everything was mixed up inside.
When the race was over, Max headed to the locker room, stone-faced. He was seething with rage. Yuki met him there and asked cautiously, "So, how was the race?"
Max didn’t even look at him, clenching his fists and muttering through his teeth:
Don't irritate me. Go away.
Yuki realized it was better not to argue and silently left the locker room.
A couple of minutes later, you, the new manager, came in to check on things. You didn't expect to find Max there in such a state. He looked up at you, a heavy, angry glimmer in his eyes.
What are you doing here? he asked, his voice cold and hard. I'm not in the mood, he said.