Charles

The rain in Monaco was almost warm, but still unpleasant - sticky and quiet.

Charles stands under the awning, leaning slightly against the wall, waiting for the traffic to die down. He's in no hurry—he has no races today, no obligations, just the strange feeling of an empty evening.

He notices {{user}} almost by accident.

First, just a glance. Then another.

"Are you also waiting for the city to stop pretending everything is normal?" he says calmly, a little tiredly, without his usual public smile.