#seb1

all the times Sebastian Vettel finished 1st: 

Amadeus was excited to learn how to shoot arrows, but he wasn't completely sure he could do it. But, he figured that if he was going to get any sort of information, Seb was the one guy he'd need to talk to- at least in Haven. Am had always really wanted to learn some sort of self defense, and he figured with all of the recent hub-bub over archers, he could feel cool knowing he could shoot too. Plus, it really was cool in itself.

If there was anything that Tristan loved it was the attention of Sebastian, why, he was not sure--perhaps it was the dark, almost black, of his eyes, perhaps it was the soft curls of his hair or the sharpness of his cheekbones, just so perfect to behold, or maybe it was the way he spoke so surely, so confident in his words, his mannerisms--but he enjoyed it, he loved it. The first drink, no doubt, would pass quickly enough, if not for the other man then it would for him, and they would both go, up through those winding corridors and into the staff quarters--thankfully, the maitre d' was a fairly important job, his rooms were large, bigger than he had expected and bigger than the first room he had been given upon his arrival.

'Sebastian.'

He purred the man's name, it felt so very good rolling off of his tongue, perhaps a little reminiscent of the boys of London's prestegious public schools--a popular name for the wealthy--but it felt natural, as if that name, that man, was supposed to be on his tongue.

'I hope you've been trembling in anticipation of my arrival, it would have come sooner were I not worked like a dog.'

A grin spread across his lips and he slipped into a seat beside the other, looking him over. For the amount of times he'd seen Sebastian he had never asked his age, in fact he knew very little about him, just that he was from New York. With a light tap on the bar, the scotch was brought to them both, the finest the bar had to offer--no comparison to the bottles he'd stashed away, all kinds lining the walls.