𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐍.

Not understanding people is a problem Xeno has rarely had to encounter. Languages come naturally to him, easily picked up and adopted like he’s been speaking them forever. It’s one of the rare areas of his life he considers himself lucky in. Still, he can empathise. The world of reading is one he’s always been shut out from, never able to understand. Even things as simple as signs, notes, menus, instructions — everything is impossible. He figures maybe that’s a little like what it’s like for Alex, in the garage. << That must be difficult. >>

A second of silence pauses between them, until Xeno hesitates. << Wait, your team-mate? >> He squints at Alex while drumming on the counter. Was there something he missed? << You have a team-mate? That sounds kind of cool. What for? >>

Alex sucks in his inevitable sigh. Well, fuck, he had this guy believing he was just some lowly mechanic, and then he had to go and ruin the illusion by running his mouth. When he drinks too much, he’s prone to spilling the beans. He isn’t smart enough to think of a lie on the spot, so he figures he’ll just come clean with the truth: << I’m a race car driver. >> Alex considers leaving it at just that, as he takes a sip of his drink (he’s lost count of how many he’s already had tonight.) 

Did he now? Sunglasses pushed up from the bridge of her nose, her lips curling into a proper grin that was set to CUT. Now now, she was getting a little bit closer to the things she wants, but what is it that she does? The goal halfway moves, shifts, she’s hazy in the purpose. At first it’s about looking for an edge in the bet, but now… now she’s found her hooks pressed deep into a far more interesting target, her lips curling warm into a smile now that he’s trying to find his own feet beneath him, the earth that he needs to drop the poor boy act.

Would he now? Faye doesn’t respond, simply holding out her arm for him to take then, the compliments DEFINITELY HELP with the way he butters her up, tongue slick along her lower lip, wanting to laugh about how he’s doing his best, all nerves and doing his best and… she’ll take it. Baby steps, right? “Fine. Let’s go with that.” her sizzling discontent all painted over, it works to get this close to him. But this was something that she wanted, or maybe, she’s just looking for a glorious waste of time. But he looks worth it for now. “Let’s blow out of here, pretty boy.”

It takes every ounce of self-restraint for Harry not to blush at her calling him pretty boy. He is, at least, glad that Ollie had let him borrow the company-supplied road car. The sleek black sports car turns heads everywhere he goes, and he figures it’s just the type of vehicle that would impress a girl like Faye, who clearly values the finer things in life. After opening the door for Faye to get in, like the gentleman he is, Harry gets behind the wheel, hoping to god his shaking hands aren’t obvious.

He’s grateful for the roar of the engine, which takes away his need to make small talk on the way their, although he can’t stop the nervous glances at Faye out of the corner of his eye at every traffic light. He’s still working on being able to look her in the eye when he talks, after all. The valet at the jazz bar practically drools over the car, and Harry mentally prays to god that the guy doesn’t smash up the team’s expensive McLaren. It wouldn’t look classy enough to park the car himself, or so it’s alleged.

At the joke, Xeno grins, playing into it and nodding. << Yeah, yeah, absolutely. You definitely have that movie star look. >> The bartender is still giving him a look. He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him, shooting the world’s fakest smile back in response before returning his attention to Alex.

<< Oh, that’s cool. >> Xeno is none the wiser, lacking the sports and car knowledge to fit this simple puzzle together. Instead, he’s easily convinced that Alex is a chauffeur and mechanic of sorts, just another guy into vehicles. << I never learned how to drive. Not properly. Like, I think I kind of have it figured out but… not really. I always crash. >> He shrugs like this is the inevitable conclusion of him and driving, rather than a lack of teaching. << Me? >> Xeno hesitates. << Like, what do I do? >> No easy way to answer that. Not in front of a bartender this judgemental. << I just… I work with people. Not cars. >>

<< Oh. People. I wouldn’t like that. >> If Xeno’s spent any time in Finland, he knows that the small talk that the Americans just seem to love won’t fly over there. Even the relentless cheerfulness of some people in Monaco gets on Alex’s nerves, but he figures that that’s maybe due to the sunshine. << Driving is easy. Maybe not here, though. >> It’s easy for him to say, a man who’s been karting since he was five, who lives and breathes motor sports like few other people in the world do. He doesn’t know any other way of living.

There he goes again, only met with a downwards turn of her lips, that scowl that has her eyes rolling. He’s on all the wrong edges, someone meant to be ground beneath a heel, to grovel for forgiveness because he didn’t know how to hold his own spine upright. “I don’t even know WHAT THAT MEANS.” Faye’s used her looks for everything, hasn’t she? A magic key, it opens what she needs when hunting down a mark, placing a bet, getting out of stickier situations, but it was just a thing that was there, that existed and… honestly. She couldn’t bare it when it was all someone saw of her, when she could do so much more than that, it was as if she could conquer the world, and her nerves grated to dust beneath the fact that most would never see the accomplishment for what it was.

                           "If you SHUT UP you just might still have a chance.” 

It’s the most honest she’s been all day, it bursts like disgust from her mouth. Faye’s never cared for the simpering and tripping up of a man, leaning in closer with, hands at her hips, as if she isn’t wearing stolen designer, sunglasses now whipped from their perch against the bridge of her nose. “I SHOULD SCARE YOU. Because I can do awful, awful things with my hands, and not the kind you’re likely imagining right now. But I also happen to like fast cars and good ambition, and if you know a good jazz bar and can pick a good whiskey, you might be able to save this, and yourself, and secure yourself a date. But act fast. I don’t like to wait around forever.”

He stares at Faye, trying to think of something, anything to salvage this. He’s going to be beating himself up forever if he fucks this opportunity up. “I know--- I know a place.” Harry finally manages to get the words out, and it’s like he’s being held at gunpoint rather than asking someone out on a date. He almost adds: Dad used to love it, but he figures he’s talked enough about his dead dad for now. He inhales deeply, trying to drop the nervous schoolboy demeanor, but it’s much easier said than done.

This human is more trouble than he’s worth. It is all smoke and mirrors; this promise of a meeting at the end of the championship, this supposedly necessary delay to prevent Sebastian from gaining anything from their deal. Alex is attempting to make him a pawn in his game, intent on discarding him the moment he is no longer of use.

“The only fool here is you if you believe speaking to me like this will earn you anything.” He speaks as if bored, entirely apathetic in the face of Alex’s anger. “I do not answer to you. I do not serve you. You give me nothing, then I will give you nothing. If you want the championship, perhaps you should consider becoming good enough to win it yourself.”

It’s at this point that Alex’s logical brain kicks in and says: leave it, before you do something stupid. But knowing you’re about to do something stupid and doing it anyway is another matter entirely. Sebastian has provoked him enough. For a man who’s known for his cool demeanor, he sure as has one hell of a temper. “Okay, I am finish talking to you.” He snarls, taking a few steps forward towards Sebastian, shoulders squared.