The paddock was still humming with the afterglow of champagne, adrenaline, and podium euphoria. Someone had popped open a second bottle just because, and Max was still suspiciously damp from Charles’ overzealous spraying. Carlos, cheeks flushed and curls wild, was practically glowing as he laughed with the others, basking in the rare harmony of a race weekend gone right.

"God, I need a break," Lando groaned, flopping down onto a couch in the hospitality area like a Victorian woman overcome with emotion. "I’m one bad flight meal away from losing my will to live."