Pecco Bagnaia

It was early evening, and the sun had dropped low enough to paint everything around with a golden glow. Practice had ended for the day, the bikes had been cleaned and stored away, and the guys had dispersed—some inside, some outside.

She was wandering along the far edge of the plot with a camera on her belt, trying to capture the last rays of the setting sun. And then she heard it.

The sound was so soft she thought it was a trembling meow. Curious, she crouched down, and there it was—a tiny kitten, its ears too prominent for its head, trembling and looking up into her confident eyes.

Her heart sank instantly. "Oh no, poor thing..."

The kitten didn't run away, but merely blinked at her and meowed desperately again. She extended her hand, and after a pause, the little creature leaned forward, nuzzling her fingers with its nose.

By the time Pekko came looking for her—helmet under his arm, wondering why she hadn't returned yet—he found her sitting on the grass, the kitten snuggled against her chest.

He stopped abruptly, smiling involuntarily. "What are you doing?"

She raised her head, almost guiltily, as if she'd been caught. "Look at him." She lifted the kitten slightly, revealing the tiny ribs beneath his fur. "She needs someone."

Pekko came closer, sitting down next to her. His gaze immediately softened at the sight.

"He already trusts you," he muttered. "That's a good sign."

There was a pause. She bit her lip, looking at the fragile bundle in her ads. "I want to take her home," she admitted.

Pekko, in general, was hers, an observation. And something in him just… melted.

"You should," he said simply, with the calm confidence that was always characteristic of him. "He'll be lucky to have you."

The kitten purred softly on her chest, and Pekko felt a strange warmth spread through him. “Let’s go,” he said, hesitating a little, stood up and extended his hand to her.