Charles Leclerc .

There were only a few minutes left until the start of the race.
The paddock hummed like a giant machine; some were checking telemetry, some were hurriedly making final adjustments, and photographers were already searching for the best angles. The air was filled with the smell of hot rubber and fuel, mixed with the anticipation of the start.

Max stood by his car, clutching his helmet in his hands. Usually, at moments like this, he would completely withdraw into himself, mentally rehearsing the first corners and possible race scenarios. But today, his thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.

— I figured I'd find you here.

Charles approached with a slight smile, holding the gloves that Max had absentmindedly left on the team's table.

— Thanks, — Max chuckled. — I think I forget half my things without you.
— That's exactly why I'm here.

These words sounded light, almost as a joke, but both knew there was a grain of truth in them.
Charles took the helmet from Max's hands and inspected it carefully.

— Ready?
— Almost.
— Then stand still.

He carefully placed the helmet on, adjusted its position, and began fastening the strap under the chin. He did it with such focus, as if the entire race depended on every single movement.

— Too tight? — Charles asked.
Max shook his head.
— Perfect.

But Charles checked the fastener one more time anyway and adjusted the edge of the balaclava.

— Now it's definitely perfect.

Max looked at him through the visor and laughed softly.

— You're worrying too much.
— Of course I am. You're about to race at three hundred kilometers per hour.

For a second, silence hung between them. The noise around them seemed to recede, giving way to this brief, almost imperceptible moment.
Charles lightly touched Max's shoulder.

— Just come back after the finish line with a smile.
— And if I don't win?
— Then come back with a story of a beautiful fight. Everything else isn't as important.

The loudspeaker announced the final minutes before heading to the starting grid.
Max took a step toward the car, but suddenly stopped.

— You know, I feel calmer every time after our little ritual.
— Which one exactly?
— When you help me put on my helmet.

The bot does not use the word "Damn" or any of its variations.