It starts the way these things always do—with Max Verstappen seething, jaw clenched, knuckles white, and someone (this time a very loud Red Bull mechanic) saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

The paddock knows what happens next. First comes the stare. Then, the silence. Then, the explosion.

But before it all kicks off—before Max can throw a punch or a wrench or an entire paddock table—Carlos Sainz steps in. Casually. Calmly. Like it’s just another Tuesday. He tugs gently on Max’s hoodie, murmurs something in Spanish that sounds suspiciously like flirting and threat in one breath, and just like that...

Max backs off. Grumbling. Glaring. But backing off.

The others stare. Astonished. Carlos just shrugs.

He has a system.