#i...don't even know

Hyle wasn’t sure how he’d gotten roped into this post-race evening with Euron and Ramsay but it was one hundred percent Ron’s fault. His teammate hadn’t learned any lessons being in F1, which was why Hyle was the primary Griffin driver and Ron wasn’t. Better to have a shit secondary than to be a good secondary, Hyle always said. He wasn’t in F1 to block cars for someone else, he wanted to win.

“Did you see the tits on that trophy girl today?” Euron drawled. “I’d like to spray some champagne all over her.” Hyle grunted in agreement, trying to not engage. He agreed with Euron - the woman had been busty and beautiful - but he didn’t want to bond with the man over shared sexual drooling. Why couldn’t he just jerk off to his fantasies privately like the rest of them?

“Kingslayer!” Ramsay yelled, startling Hyle out of his annoyance.

Ugh. Jaime Lannister. He was dressed in all black, trying to make some moody statement for all Hyle knew, and he seemed uninterested in joining them, which Hyle was fine with except Ramsay called to him again and the other driver frowned and headed their way.

Somehow Jaime had snagged Brienne Tarth as first his mechanic and then his race engineer, and given the season he was already having, it seemed like that one move had changed his fortunes, and definitely his sponsor’s money. No one deserved good fortune less than Lannister, an aging, arrogant prick who wasted whatever Seven-given talent he had.

To be fair to Lannister, though, Hyle hadn’t even known Brienne was a mechanic. Who knew the tall, ugly girl from Tarth had it in her?

Hyle was almost relieved when Euron prodded him to buy the next round of drinks - even though he had bought the last round he didn’t want to seem cheap in front of Lannister, especially when the other man ordered the most expensive alcohol on the menu. Fucking typical, trying to make Hyle feel like he wasn’t as well-off.

He sauntered over to the bar and ordered another pitcher of beer and a whiskey for Lannister, his eyes drawn to the TV where they were showing the recap of the day. There was the woman in question, just as rabbit-toothed and freckled as ever. She looked worse somehow with her hair pressed down by the headphones, her face scrunched in concentration. She’d been nice enough, though, back in F2, and eager to learn. She’d listened well, and picked things up quickly. It hadn’t even been that much of a burden to ask her out as part of the bet, though Ron had ruined that before anyone could collect.

There was laughter over at the table and he picked up the pitcher and tumbler and turned towards the to see what was so funny, when Ron said something and Jaime seemed to lose his mind and punched Ron harder than Hyle had ever seen someone hit another man in person. The sound of it was excruciating, meaty and crunching, and then lost in the crash of Ron’s body and the glassware all over the floor. Around them the other bar patrons were shooting to their feet in surprise.

“Her name is Brienne,” Jaime snarled - actually snarled! - and Ron, fucking stupid Ron, just cowered on the floor in terror while Hyle gaped in shock.

Jaime turned towards Hyle and for a moment he was certain the man was going to hit him, looked like some movie star version of the Warrior, or the Stranger, ready to bring death to anyone who stood in his way. But instead Lannister just grabbed the whiskey out of Hyle’s hand, downed it quickly, and then threw it at Ron’s feet before saying “thanks for the drink” - and gods for a moment Hyle had to admire the sheer machismo of the man - before leaving just as quickly as he’d arrived.

Hyle got close enough to  set the pitcher down on their table while Euron burst into raucous laughter and Ramsay helped a furiously trembling Ron to his feet.

“What the fuck did you do?” Hyle asked.

“None of your fucking business,” Ron mumbled out of an entirely too bloody mouth.

“Well I’m not paying for the mess,” Hyle said. He poured himself a drink and sat down on his still standing stool. See? He had machismo too.