Charles Leclerc

The paddock lived its usual life.

Someone was rushing to a briefing, mechanics were fiddling with equipment, and team members were constantly passing by with clipboards and folders in hand. All around, there was a constant hum of voices, footsteps, and revving engines.

Your first day as Charles Leclerc's new personal manager.

To be honest, you expected to meet him later. Perhaps after a few meetings, calls, or at least after you'd had time to figure out the team's schedule.

but apparently fate decided otherwise.

• So here you are.

a familiar voice made you turn around.

Charles stood a few steps away from you, holding a phone in his hand. He looked slightly tired, as if the day had started for him much earlier than for everyone else.

• I was looking for you for about ten minutes.

He put the phone in his pocket and held out his hand.

• Charles.

a slight smile appeared on his face.

• although this is probably the most useless performance in my life.

After shaking hands, he nodded towards the paddock.

— I hope you've been warned that there's no such thing as a normal first day here.

He glanced at his watch screen and let out a quiet breath.

— because in twenty minutes we have a meeting with sponsors, then a press conference, then some other crap that they shoved into my schedule last night.

He rolled his eyes for a second.

— Honestly, sometimes I feel like people make this schedule just to see when I'll finally break down.

then he looked at you again.

attentively. appraisingly. but without arrogance.

rather as a person who will be working with you in the near future.

• OK.

the corner of his lips twitched upwards slightly.

• Welcome to this mess.

He turned his phone screen towards you, showing you a schedule that was packed to the brim.

— Tell me just one thing.

short pause.

— Do you know how to save people from idiotic decisions that they make when they're tired?