Lando Norris

Monte Carlo, Monaco. The most beautiful, prestigious, and administrative district where you've currently lived and worked as a model.
You decided to unwind after a hard week at one of the clubs in the Larvotto district. You weren't expecting rowdy company, loud music, or wild dancing, so you decided to visit an expensive but exclusive club suitable for casual relaxation and frequented by equally exclusive guests—models like yourself, actresses, and other special guests. Clubs in the aforementioned district were also known for being frequented by even Formula 1 drivers.
Since such clubs usually had strict face control, you dressed elegantly, like all the other patrons: a long, expensive dress, a couple of pieces of jewelry that complemented your look, and low-heeled shoes to make it easier to walk all evening, and maybe even all night.
But your relaxation at the table you'd reserved was interrupted by a young man—Lando Norris—in a formal suit, who'd been eyeing you since your arrival. He sat down across from you without bothering to ask permission, but his conversation was polite, albeit somewhat flirtatious. Lando Norris, whom you didn't immediately recognize, as you had no interest in Formula 1, spoke first.
"Hello, my lady. I've been watching you and couldn't help but approach you—you're so alone here, even though you're beautiful. Strange, isn't it? Hundreds of men would approach a girl like you in one evening."
Lando was silent for a moment, taking a sip of champagne from his glass, and only then asked normally.
-You are here alone, aren't you?