ah my beloved friend s ... sometimes i can still hear her voice
(team principal au for u ily)
“If you keep this up,” Valtteri says patiently, “soon there will be a hole in the floor.”
Lewis stops pacing. “I know, I know,” he says with a sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”
“Why?” asks Valtteri bluntly. He waits until Lewis is sitting next to him on the couch, before continuing, “The car looks good. Our drivers are good. Bono has terrorized the pit crew to under 2.5 seconds consistently. What has you worried?”
Lewis shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s pre-season testing, Valtteri, if it doesn’t go well…” He trails off.
“You are worried the car will be a shitbox?”
Lewis lets out a snort at the description. “Something like that,” he admits.
Valtteri puts an arm around his shoulders, heavy and reassuring. “It won’t be,” he says decisively.
“Then we handle it,” he murmurs after a moment, squeezing.
Lewis exhales slowly, body relaxing against Valtteri’s. “Okay,” he says, somewhat reluctantly. “Okay, Valtteri.”
He does not move his arm. Lewis does not move away. They both pretend to care about the football on the TV.