this isn't a race. this is a showdown.
pearly teeth bite down on the nail of her thumb. it'll ruin her manicure, probably, but eve's attention is caught elsewhere. the roar of the race is almost deafening, especially so from where they stand trackside. a decorative jacket hangs over her shoulders. it tells the world she's part of this team, even if she isn't dirtying her hands with oil and grease. ❝ you need to do something. ❞ widened gaze is turned on cassian. a frantic worry clear in crystal blue eyes. that's her best friend out on the track, moving at a speed so fast that her car has become nothing but a blur. her rival's car in hot on her heels, their sides having come into contact more than once already. ❝ you're in charge, right? can't you tell her to . . i don't know - be more careful? ❞ the roaring suddenly increases as the vehicles race past the paddock and, on instinct, a hand reaches to grab onto cassian's arm. nails digging into the material of his jacket. one car skids off the track, flipping onto it's side, and a sigh of relief passes from red lips when eve realises it isn't one of aurelion's. ❝ they're going to kill each other. ❞