Max Verstappen x Alexandra Otto
Alexandra trains with ruthless focus in Monaco, her body sharper, her mind locked on redemption as she prepares for Worlds and the road back to Olympic gold. Later, she’s dragged into a Red Bull promo with her brother Jonathan—where her blunt honesty, quiet menace, and effortless chemistry with him turn a simple Q&A into viral gold.
Nice was crisp but not cold, the sunlight cutting sharp lines across the ice as Alexandra laced her skates in silence. The rink smelled faintly of cold metal and wax, the air carrying that subtle sting only ice could hold.
It was freeing with her. Made her relax. It felt like home, as it was where she was meant to be.
Her Coach Katya, well, Alexandra called her Katie was on the side talking to her trainer, Samatha, and James was set to arrive later to watch and help. She had the whole team there now.
She had been back in Monaco for now over a month. The team and her were getting ready to fly out to Sweden for the world championships. It was nice being back with them, nice being back with people that cared for her and that pushed her to be better.
She didn't feel stressed. Alexandra didn't feel that, no, instead she felt pressure. The pressure to perform well, to be stronger, to be better. To show everyone that she should have won it in the first place, that it was a mistake.
That Alexandra believe that pressure was something that you put in tires, but that didn't stop her from feeling it. Pressure followed her, everywhere, she couldn't escape it but she could try.
The arena was free for her to do as she please, as her team stood watch. She had it to herself. It was hers. Each member of her training camp stood wrapped in an Alexandra Otto jacket, iPads out taking notes, making plans, wanting changes. It was just how it went with her team. Everyone was always ready.
Her plan was to stay all day. Her coach watching, her trainer watching. Maybe some videos, but all she wanted to do was practice. And practice and then maybe relax and then back to practice.
She wanted perfection. She wanted to be nothing but the best and if that meant training for seven hours then she would.
If you asked Alexandra she would say that perfection wasn't real. That if you thought you were perfect then you were lazy. Alexandra didn't want to be lazy.
She couldn't let herself fall to second again. She couldn't. She wouldn't. She couldn't afford that. She would be going into the Olympics at the age of 20. The last time she competed she was 16... that was four years.
That gave her four years to grow. Four years to get better. To be able to beat everyone. She just had to win. That's all she was thinking.
She slipped onto the ice, headphones already in place, the familiar chords of Romeo and Juliet filling her ears. The music was both anchor and fuel—a story she knew by heart, a heartbeat she could follow without hesitation.
Each note reminded her of the fall four years ago, the loss of a medal that she worked so hard for, the crushed dreams. But now, that same music carried purpose. Discipline. Focus. Possibility.
Her coach watched from the side as she broke down the moves. Boxing everything out. Feeling it. Connecting it. Wanting to match everything. To feel how everything would come together.
She handed her headphones off to Katya who was by the boards, as Samantha set up the loud speaker.
The second time the music came on. Alexandra flipped a switch. The girl that everyone should be afraid off.
The Alexandra that was on the ice was a beast. The Canon. The Queen of Quads. The Russian Rocket. That's who she was. That's who she became. Someone that no one could beat when she was on her best. When she landed her jumps. When she was locked. When she believed in herself and in her jumps.
Katie watched as Alexandra started her program.
Note book in hand as she watched Alexandra glide across the ice, yelling small things at her every once in a while. Alexandra would try to incorporate them as she continued though the program.
Katie turned to James, "She is strong right now. Look at those jumps." She said pointing at her as she jumped once again. "She is locked in right now, she wants it more than anyone else. You can just feel it."
James nodded as he pointed at her, "Needs a cleaner exit out of the quad lutz, otherwise it looks good. She is taking the gold all the way this year. Everything looks better, she looks more confident. She has more power, and she has been pushing herself since she lost that medal."
Katie nodded as she wrote in her book, writing notes, glancing at her. The way that Alexandra spun, the way she looked so calm, yet she was so feared on the ice.
Katie knew that she should have won. Everyone did. Katie couldn't believe it when she lost. She knew that Alexandra deserved it more than anyone. That she did what others couldn't. No one could do quads, no one could do what her skater could do.
No girl had landed a quad anything in the Olympics... and in PyeongChang 2018 Olympic Winter Games Alexandra Otto had landed all her quads, but that triple axel screwed her over. She should have won, and that jump costed her.
Alexandra had landed all her jumps leading up to that moment and then in the last one she slipped on the landing, yet to Katie it didn't matter.
She should have won, the skate was better, the technique was better, the free program, the short program, in no world should Alexandra Otto have gotten second place. Alexandra Otto was better than everyone on that ice and she got screwed over.
She was strong through out this program she had to be. Katie knew how strong Alexandra was. This was going to be her free skate and she needed it to be perfect. She had five quads in it, and multiple other jumps she needed to land, smooth transitions she needed to ace. Everything was on the line here.
Everything had to be perfect.
She started with edges, tracing clean lines, feeling the ice give under her blades. Then small jumps—doubles, triples—just to warm her body, just to remember her rhythm. Just to feel everything.
Her eyes never left the path ahead, her mind running the choreography in exact detail. Her body blocking out everything as she continued to skate. Every spin, every lean, every lift of the arms had a weight, a reason.
Katie watched intense, seeing the way that Alexandra would touch the side of her head when she got annoyed at herself when something wasn't up to standard. When she would call back to Samatha to get the music set back. Feeling the fails and making them better, cleaner, winners.
Katie nodded, "Better, looks cleaner. Need a tighter exit, and push harder into the loop after." Alexandra gave her a thumbs up, skating it again. Feeling the changes. Listening to the corrections. Wanting to be the best skater that she could be. Better than everyone else.
It felt easier. Her body felt like she could handle it better. That she was stronger than she was before. She wanted it more now. More than before. More than anyone on that ice. She was so close to winning and to lose because of one jump, she was determined not to let it happen again.
Those triples she'd been perfecting, the ones she knew could land, then moving into the quads, the quads that she been working to land perfectly for four years just so she would fall on that ice again. She couldn't let that happen again.
That triple axel... she was going to land it this time by next year. She was going to show everyone that she could do it. That she could do it all.
She crouched low, knees bending, core tight, and pushed off, leaping into the air. Rotation precise. Landing controlled—but she kept running through the sequence, over and over, correcting the smallest shifts, noting the tiniest over-rotation, feeling the subtle imbalance in her hips, her shoulders, her free leg.
Everything needed to have a reason, everything had to feel in its best shape.
James nodded, holding up a thumbs up, "Looks good. Good corrections," his hard Russian accent cut through the arena. Smiling watching her. He had been her coach since she was 5.
Alexandra saw him as a coach yes, but also as a father figure. She didn't have a father figure growing up, but James filled that roll slightly. Listening to her, talking to her, being someone she could talk to when she was scared to tell her mother or her father.
James wanted her to win, not because he wanted her to, because how much he knew it meant to her. How he saw her destroy her body for the ice, for the medal. For the gold.
Headphones in, music loud, she barely noticed the hours slipping by. The rink became her world. Her focus was total, her body attuned to every edge, every twist, every beat of the song. Romeo and Juliet wasn't just a routine; it was a reminder of why she skated. Why she fought. Why she refused to compromise.
The way she pushed herself, adding more jumps than was needed. More complex than it needed to be. Wanting to be able to push herself, she knew that no one else was going to do what she was. She wanted it. She was determined to get it.
She landed a quad salchow, then another, then slowed just enough to feel the flow of the program. She imagined the Olympic stage, the bright lights, the eyes watching. But she didn't falter. Not once.
Visualizing it. Visualizing the lights the noise. The stage she would be skating on. The way that she was going to compete. The loudness, the chaos, everything that made the Olympics the Olympics.
She believed she was the best. That why she stuck with her skating. She believed at she was better than anyone else.
So, if you ever asked her who she thought was the best, she would say herself. She thought she was the best... she didn't think that thought, she believed it. She believed she was the best because she was. Alexandra wouldn't listen to anyone else if they told her different.
Doubt was the mind killer.
The music swelled, and so did her determination. Moving to land anther quad salchow, into a triple flip. This wasn't practice for fun. This was lock-in mode. Every jump, every spin, every step on the ice was a promise—to herself, to the routine, to the story she was telling.
And somewhere deep in her chest, Alexandra knew the quads were coming. That the stage was coming. That the noise was coming. That her medal was only a couple skates away. She could feel them. They weren't just dreams anymore—they were inevitable.
Everything feels lighter now—cleaner, sharper, almost merciful. The rink hums the way it always has, cold and honest, and her coach's voice cuts through the air with quiet authority: Run it from the top. Add the quads back in. No drama. No softness. Just expectation.
The exception that she would be perfect. That she would land everything.
Alexandra nods once and pushes off. The music now playing from the speakers rather than from her headphones. Her coach watching, listening, watching the jumps, the timing, the transitions.
Here coach was watching her. Both of them. Katie. James. Samatha on the side. Watching her work, watching her preform. Watching and making sure that she was ready. Ready to compete against, ready do push herself to the limits. Katie watched on the side. Yelling corrections every once in a while.
Getting Alexandra to run it back.
James making sure that she was pushing her. Getting her to smooth things over. Telling her to fix her hands. The positions of the push offs, the transitions in the lands.
Alexandra didn't care where she was, wether she was training or just skating, she was there to win and that was how she operated. To win. That's all she saw and all she wanted. All she wanted to do. She couldn't let her coaches, her trainer, her mother, her brother or herself down again.
Looking to how she performed in the last Olympics and seeing that she was only a couple points back all because she couldn't stick her jump. Her coaches told her... you land those quads you win... and she did she landed all of them but the triple axel. That one jump haunted her for four years and she never left it go.
From the first stroke, she commits. No hesitation, no bargaining with gravity. The quads are back where they belong—violent, precise, breathtaking. Toe pick in, snap, rise. Air rushing past her ears. Time slowing just long enough for muscle memory to take over.
The triple axel let her fly. She allowed herself to feel everything, how the ice felt when she landed, the way her body caught her in the jump. She felt herself get better with every jump, every movement.
She lands the first one clean, knee steady, edge deep and confident. The second follows, then the third—each jump sharper than the last, each rotation a declaration. She is not asking permission. She is taking space.
Her lungs burn. Her legs scream. She does not let up.
This is the difference now: she wants the pain. She wants the pressure. She wants to know exactly how far she can push before something gives—and then push past it anyway.
Every transition is deliberate, every extension finished, every landing held just a beat longer than necessary. The quads are stunning not because they're difficult, but because they're hers again.
When the music cuts, she's shaking, breathless, alive in that electric way only comes from total exertion. Her coach doesn't clap. He doesn't need to. He just nods, slow and satisfied.
That nod says everything.
She skates to the boards knowing one thing with absolute clarity: this—this—is easier. Not because it's less demanding, but because she has stopped resisting how hard she wants to go.
She finishes the program. Feeling free. Like she figured it out. That it perfect. She didn't believe in perfect, not really, but that program the way she ran it, it felt quite close.
Her coach doesn't let the moment linger. She never does. She meets her at the boards, eyes sharp, already turning the page. "Good. Now Love Story. Run it."
Alexandra doesn't argue. She never argues when it feels like this.
The opening notes of Love Story slip into the rink, and something inside her settles—low, grounded, intentional. This program has always been about control disguised as ease, strength wrapped in artistry. She pushes off and lets the music pull her forward.
The cantilever comes exactly where it should, deep and fearless. Her knees bend impossibly low, torso arched back, her blade carving a clean, unwavering edge. It's stunning not because it's flashy, but because it's calm. Her shoulder blades on the ice before she comes up.
She owns the ice in that moment, daring gravity to interfere and knowing it won't. The rink seems to hold its breath as she rises out of it, smooth as breath leaving lungs.
Her jumps snap into place with quiet confidence—no fight, no scramble. Spins center immediately, tight and fast, then open with intention. Transitions melt into one another like they were always meant to exist this way. She isn't chasing the program anymore; she's living inside it.
Love story was simpler than Romeo and Juliet. It had less jumps, but more spins. Alexandra liked it, it was graceful. It was a stunning short program, had a couple quads in it, but also had lots of technical spins that she liked.
And the strangest part—the best part—is how good it felt. Not frantic. Not desperate. Just right. Her body listens. Her edges answer. The music doesn't demand anything she isn't already giving.
When she finishes, she doesn't rush to the boards. She holds the final position, chin lifted, chest open, letting the silence land before the sound does.
Her coach exhales through her nose, the closest thing he has to praise. "That," she says simply, "is how it's supposed to look." Katie smiles, as Alexandra got up to skate to the board.
James smiled and nodded, offering her a small smile.
Alexandra smiles—not wide, not dramatic. Just enough.
She heard that last year. Heard the same words. Yet still didn't get the title. Still fell short of her goal. Of everything she ever dreamed off. This year had to be redemption. She wouldn't listen until she had that goal medal in hand. When she was on the podium, holding it, with the anthem in the background.
Because for the first time in a long time, the work isn't heavy. The skating isn't forced. Everything feels good, and she knows better than anyone how rare—and powerful—that is.
She was going for the gold, and she was going to get it, that was how the next season would go. That is what she planed for.
Alexandra eased herself onto the stretching mat at the edge of the rink, sweat cooling on her skin, hair damp and clinging in soft strands around her face. She had finally took it out of the tight bun that she had started the day in.
Samantha, her trainer, crouched beside her, hands warm and sure as they guided Alexandra into a careful stretch. Trying not to break the girl, but also making sure that she wasn't going to be broken the next day. Something that she would complain about if she didn't stretch.
"Legs first," Samantha murmured, gently pressing Alexandra's hamstrings, feeling the tension release slowly. "Good, that's it. Nice and controlled." Holding her as Alexandra groaned as she continued the movements.
Alexandra hated stretching... she did it because she knew how her body would hate her in the morning if she didn't and how she was going to be in pain and that would affect training.
Alexandra let out a soft exhale, letting her muscles unwind under Samantha's attentive touch. "Feels... good," she murmured, her muscles where finally loosening up and not being "stupid little things" as Alexandra liked to call them.
Samantha nodded, moving carefully up to Alexandra's back. "Spine's tight, but nothing alarming. We're going to work it out. You pushed hard today. I would recommend a slow day tomorrow, simple and maybe not six hours like you did today."
Meanwhile, Alexandra's coach Katie had approached, clipboard in hand, eyes scanning her notes even as she watched Alexandra stretch. "How's she feeling?" Katie asked, voice calm but carrying that underlying authority.
"She's solid," Samantha replied, pressing gently along Alexandra's lower back, helping her loosen the tension after the jumps and quads. "A little stiffness in the hamstrings and lower back, but that's expected. Everything else looks great. Core's engaging like it should."
Katie nodded, glancing at the screen on her tablet where they tracked Alexandra's training data. "Good. That's exactly what we want. Push today, recover properly tonight. Tomorrow we go again, but controlled, and this will be the last six hours. We will taper down now, as we will be living soon so we don't want you to sore or stiff."
Samantha guided Alexandra through another set of stretches, carefully rolling out her hip flexors and gently bending her back, hands warm and reassuring. "How's the quad landing feeling? Any soreness? Also, the triple axle, we had a lot of focus on that. How did that feel?"
Alexandra shook her head, a small smile forming. "Landing felt amazing today. No pain, just... tired in a good way. Axel felt good, think we got the over-rotation figure out."
"Perfect," Samantha said. "That's exactly what I like to hear. Body's functioning the way it should. No red flags. We'll keep monitoring, make sure recovery's on point."
Katie smiled, watching the two women work seamlessly. "You're in good hands," she said softly. "Both of you."
Alexandra let herself relax fully for the first time since stepping off the ice, muscles unwinding, mind calm. Hands on the mat, Samantha supporting her back, the three of them quietly making sure that every movement, every stretch, every fiber of her body was functioning—ready for the next push, ready for the next jump, ready for the Olympics.
Alexandra lay back on the mat, Samantha's hands steady and warm as they pressed along her lower back, easing out the tension from her quads and landing muscles. The rhythmic stretch was almost meditative, every inch of her body unwinding after the brutal session on the ice.
The way that her body felt as if it was melting, they were about 45 minutes into stretching. Alexandra started getting into a rhythm and stopped complaining and was feeling better.
"By the way," Katie's voice cut through softly, clipboard in hand, "don't forget—you've got that Red Bull promo video with Jonathan later tonight. Some question videos, this is for the Redbull Formula One team, and also for Redbull."
Alexandra groaned, rolling her head to the side, eyebrows furrowed. "Ugh... why did I even agree to that?" she muttered under her breath, more to herself than anyone else.
Samantha paused, hands still on her shoulders, looking at her curiously. "Too much?" she asked gently.
Alexandra let out a long exhale, stretching her arms overhead, letting her fingertips graze the ice. "It's fine. Just... I don't know. Public stuff always feels weird after training. I'm used to being on the ice alone or with coaches, not cameras."
Katie chuckled lightly, notebook tapping. "It'll be fine. It's just a video. Jonathan will be there. So, that will be good for you. Try to be nice-ish and just try to enjoy it. He is your brother and people love that sibling connection."
Alexandra tilted her head back against the mat, half-smiling, half-sighing. "Yeah, but every time I think about a camera on me, I start overthinking everything. And I just finished nailing quads—why complicate it? Why did I think this was a good idea?"
Samantha patted her shoulder reassuringly. "You're fine. You've got this. And honestly? You can't skate quads like that and not handle a promo video. You're unstoppable right now."
Alexandra rolled her eyes, but a small laugh escaped her lips. "I know... I just... I don't know why I agreed so easily."
Katie smiled knowingly. "Because you said yes before thinking about it—classic Alexandra. You always dive in. That's why you're going to land those quads tomorrow like they're nothing."
Alexandra let herself relax again, letting the stretch sink in. Cameras, promotions, social media... none of it mattered right now. Not when her body was working perfectly, not when her mind was locked in. But still, she thought with a tiny groan, she really should have thought twice before saying yes to a video shoot.
Alexandra loved her brother, she really did, she just hated when he talked her into stupid videos. She hated the media and she had to deal with in and now she was willingly dealing with it because of her brother.
Jonathan hated media, he didn't like people and having his sister there made it easier. He would stop him from over thinking. The only way that he would do media is with his sister, and he was lucky that she was easy to persuade, he could just use Redbull and she would agree and then he wouldn't have to stress out alone.
The Red Bull studio was far too clean for Alexandra's liking. Bright lights. Two stools. A table stacked with cue cards labeled "Most Googled Questions."
Somehow she had gotten roped into this. She was a Redbull athlete yes, but she didn't know why she was here with the Redbull formula one team doing a YouTube video. She blamed her brother for this because apparently he brought her up in some interview and people wanted a video of the two of them together.
If Alexandra could kill her brother she would. She hated PR, she hated making YouTube videos for anyone. She hated how the cameras acted around her. How she just had to sit there and take it.
She hated being filmed. She hated the media. She knew she was going to have to do it with the World Championship coming up, but why was she with the formula one team, because she loved her brother.
Jonathan also offered her Redbull, and she was happy to take free Redbull. She was sponsored by Redbull, yes, but she would take all the free Redbull she could get. She wasn't even sure where she was supposed to go or even how Redbull had a film studio in Monaco but they did. And she just went along with it.
She sat down anyway, legs crossed, arms folded, already unimpressed. She had her open Redbull can in her hand, looking around every once in a while.
Jonathan dropped into the chair beside her, adjusting his Red Bull polo with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times for sponsors. He leaned over slightly. "Just get through it," he murmured. "They promised you the fridge."
Alexandra sighed. "I want it in writing next time." Fixing her Redbull hoodie so that it would look better. She didn't know why she agreed to do this after training, there was a very high likely-hood that they would have to bleep out half her words.
A producer slid the first card toward her. The camera started to role as Alexandra put down her can. Alexandra picked up the card, removing the first piece of paper between two fingers, reading silently. Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
She lifted her eyes to the camera.
"Why didn't Alexandra Otto win in 2018?"
The room went still. You could hear someone cough. Someone muttered "who put that on the card." No one knew what to say or do. Wether to say sorry or to cut the footage and start over.
Alexandra stared directly into the lens—long, flat, unblinking. The kind of look that made people shift in their seats. There was no anger in it. Just menace. Controlled. Deliberate.
This was a great way to start the video, who allowed that was all she thought to herself.
Jonathan glanced at her from the corner of his eye, already knowing what was going to happen. She said nothing.
Not a word. Which could have been worse then her saying anything... The stare she gave the camera was enough... All Jonathan thought was at least it was better than her dropping a hundred and one curse words.
After a beat—two beats— she looked back down at the question again like it had personally offended her. Then she reached for the next one without breaking eye contact with the camera.
Jonathan coughed into his hand to hide a grin, "That's a stupid question" he muttered, as he turned to look at the camera.
The producer hesitated, then nodded for her to continue.
Alexandra skimmed it, lips twitching as she read it out loud.
"Is Alexandra Otto dating a Formula One driver?"
She let out a short laugh—sharp, dismissive. "No," she said flatly. "Next."
She dropped the piece of paper onto the table like it was dead weight and picked up another.
"What is Alexandra Otto's diet?"
She looked up again, deadpan. "Food and lots of Redbull."
Jonathan snorted this time, fully. "That's accurate."
Alexandra rolled her eyes. "I burn five thousand calories a day. Google that. I run on redbull and what ever my diet food person tells me to eat. They send me food to cook and I cook it. Couldn't tell you. I cook it and I eat it."
She finished the question, then—without ceremony—tossing the piece of paper over her shoulder once again. She continued reading the questions on her card, once she was finished she tossed it off camera. The board landed somewhere off-camera with a soft thud.
Jonathan leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying this now. "You can't just throw the cards."
"They asked stupid questions, so expect stupid actions," she replied calmly, already reaching for the next one.
"Why is Alexandra so serious?"
She blinked once. Slowly. "I'm not," she said. "I'm focused and like winning. There's a difference."
She tossed that paper as well, not caring much about it .
Jonathan shook his head, smiling. "She's like this at home, by the way."
Alexandra glanced sideways at him. "You're next. Don't get comfortable. I hope they ask you stupid questions as well."
She finished her question with increasing efficiency—reading, answering in single sentences, or not at all. When she hit the last card, she didn't even bother reading it out loud. Just lifted it, stared at the camera one final time, and flicked it behind her. "This is stupid..." she muttered as she looked at the camera. "Yes, I am sponsored by Redbull"
She leaned back, folding her arms again. "I am done, out of questions and out of redbull."
The producer hesitated. "Uh—Jonathan, you're up."
Alexandra stood immediately, already eyeing the Red Bull fridge like a prize she'd earned. Jonathan watched her go, shaking his head affectionately.
"See?" he said to the camera. "This is why she wins."
Off-camera, Alexandra cracked open a can, took a sip, and muttered, "Worth it."
Jonathan slid his stack of cards toward himself with exaggerated care, straightening them into a neat pile like this was a board meeting and not a Red Bull content shoot. He adjusted his watch, rolled his shoulders back, and looked straight into the camera.
"Alright," he said smoothly. "Let's do this."
Alexandra had already reclaimed her seat—sideways now, legs draped over one arm of the chair, Red Bull in hand. She cracked the tab again just for drama and took a slow sip, eyes glued to Jonathan like she was waiting for him to embarrass himself.
Jonathan picked up the first card.
"What does Jonathan Otto do at Red Bull Racing?"
He smiled—polished, practiced. "I'm an engineer. I work on performance data, car optimization, and I mainly do numbers and talk to the drivers about that changes that they want to make. I also help build the car."
Alexandra hummed loudly. "Sounds like fun."
He ignored her and placed the card neatly to the side.
"Is it stressful working with Max Verstappen?"
Jonathan didn't even hesitate. "Only if you're not prepared."
Alexandra choked on her drink. "Max is nice."
Jonathan looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "You don't have to work with him on race week, so you have no room to talk."
He lifted the next card, eyebrows lifting slightly.
"Does Jonathan think Alexandra is the most talented skater of her generation?"
He paused, then looked directly at her.
"Yes," he said. "Next question."
Alexandra tilted her head, smug. "Correct answer right there." Jonathan picked up another card.
"What is it like working during race weekends?"
"Long hours. High pressure. No mistakes allowed," he said calmly. "Which is why I don't party. I mainly function off of the Redbull we have. I go over a lot of numbers, and lots of talking to people. I don't have a sleep schedule during those weekends."
Alexandra grinned. "See? Otto family values." Jonathan smirked despite himself and continued.
"Who is more competitive: Jonathan or Alexandra?"
He sighed, dramatically, like the answer physically pained him. "Her."
Alexandra raised her can in victory. "Say it louder for the people in the back."
Jonathan placed that card down with a bit more force than necessary.
He read it silently, jaw tightening just a fraction.
"Did Jonathan ever approve of Alexandra's ex?"
Alexandra leaned forward instantly, eyes gleaming. "Ohhh, this one is fun."
Jonathan looked up at the camera, expression flat.
The room went quiet for half a second before Alexandra burst out laughing. "He doesn't like any of my boyfriends, or ex's. Thinks that I can do better. I think it's just a brother thing. He has been like that since I could talk to boys."
He tossed the card aside—less violently than Alexandra, but with intention.
"What motivates Jonathan Otto?"
He thought about it for a moment. Then: "Excellence. And not embarrassing myself online. Winning, I think that is an Otto thing though."
Alexandra clapped slowly. "You failed the second one." She laughed to herself. Her brother had memes of himself made. Him crashing out during race weekends, wether that was braking headsets, ripping paper of notes, yelling at other drivers, or just holding a Redbull every where.
Jonathan stacked the remaining cards, set them aside, and leaned back, exhaling. "I'm done."
Jonathan was then handed anther set of cards. The producer seemed to trust Jonathan more than Alexandra with them, which was a smart idea. These questions regarded both of them.
'Is Alexandra Otto related to Jonathan Otto from Red Bull Racing?'
Alexandra rolled her eyes immediately. "No. We just share a last name, parents, grandparents, childhood trauma—"
"—and genetics," Jonathan added flatly.
She pointed at him. "That."
The producer laughed nervously. Alexandra didn't care. Jonathan smiled at the carman, "Yes, we are related, and I am the older one."
'Why does Alexandra Otto spend so much time in the Red Bull garage?'
Jonathan answered automatically. "Because I work there."
Alexandra nodded. "And because it's more fun than wherever I'm supposed to be. Also, they have snacks, and Redbull. I am a very easy person to please."
Jonathan smirked. "She just steals our food."
"Correct," she said, unapologetic. "And I watch you pretend you're not stressed while absolutely being stressed. I am also there for the free Redbull."
'Who is the more competitive Otto sibling?'
They both answered at the same time.
Alexandra smiled. Jonathan looked at his sister then back to the camera, "I think we are both very competitive. Just in different ways, I am building something for someone to compete in, and Alexandra is fulling competing on her own. So, we are both very competitive in different ways, and we both heavily value winning."
Alexandra nodded, "We are both competitive, when Jonathan was karting, he was very competitive, I think he still is because now he is building something that he wants to be fast for someone to compete it. So, when it does work he gets annoyed at himself and is very passionate for what he does."
Alexandra smiled, "I think that people think that I am more competitive because we see it on the screen more often than we see Jonathan. Jonathan is competitive, but it is just less seen."
Jonathan smiles, "We are always thinking about winning, just in different ways."
'Does Alexandra watch Formula One?'
She leaned back in her chair. "I watch my brother. Max. Dani. Sometimes chaos. Depends on the race. I watch as much as I can when I am not skating, I wanna watch my brother work."
Jonathan added, "She critiques everything."
"Because half of you need better strategy," she said calmly.
The producer tried to redirect. "Okay—last question."
'Would you two ever work together professionally?'
Jonathan looked at Alexandra. Alexandra looked at her Red Bull. Took another sip.
"No," they said together.
Then Alexandra added, "We have very different ideas, and string personality's and we are in very different worlds."
Jonathan sighed. "If we worked together though, you could bet that we would win everything."
The second they were told they were done, Alexandra stood up immediately, grabbing another can from the table.
"Okay, we can leave now," she said, already walking.
Jonathan followed, shaking his head but smiling just a little. "You were supposed to be nicer."
She glanced back at him. "I showed up. That was me being nice."
They walked out together, shoulders brushing, both already relaxed again—two Otto siblings, done with the internet, done with the questions, perfectly content just vibing their way out.
@IceEdgeFan: "Can we just appreciate how both Ottos hate being there and we get to watch it anyway 😭 Alexandra with her Red Bull looking like 'don't touch me' and Jonathan giving short answers cus he wants to be gone 😩💖"
@QuadQueen2026: "Alexandra glaring at the camera every time a stupid question pops up is literally iconic 😂 Queen energy."
@F1toFigure8: "Jonathan stacking cards like he's in a board meeting while Alexandra is just vibing with her emotional support Red Bull... I live 😭"
@RinkAndThrottle: "Imagine being THAT talented and also THAT done with everyone asking questions 😂 I stan the Otto siblings."
@MonacoSunset: "Two geniuses. One iced coffee. One Red Bull. Both rolling their eyes at us. Absolute content."
@SoftEdges: "Alexandra tossing cards behind her like she's in a music video. Jonathan pretending to be composed. They are so different but so similar."
@SpeedAndSpin:"Can we get a permanent series of these two just sitting there being DONE with questions??? I'd watch daily. Get them to do this more!!!"
@FigureRacer: "Alexandra taking a sip of Red Bull every 10 seconds like it's therapy 😂 Meanwhile Jonathan is lowkey serving diva energy."
@OttoObsessed: "Alexandra: emotional support Red Bull. Jonathan: dramatic engineer diva. Me: fully obsessed with this content 😭"
@IceAndRPM: "They clearly just want to leave, but the chemistry is unreal. Also can someone teach me to roll my eyes that well?"
@QuadSpinQueen: "Love seeing them together like this. Alexandra is calm chaos, Jonathan is chaotic calm. It works 😭❤️"
