Chris knowing all the little signs when Adrian is getting overstimulated on a mission or around the team in general- him telling everyone else to lower the fucking volume or get out because Adrian is either gonna curl up into a non-verbal ball or start throwing knives and neither one of these are great options
The muscles in his cheeks were tired from being forced to smile for too long. His hands shook and the mic in his right hand wobbled. He pulled it away just like how did it with his smile. Down. Away From his face. Hide it. Put it in his dress pants pocket.
Gosh, he had thought he was ready to come back. He was wrong. The feeling from that night came back to him. Stronger, with a revenge for being held down, bottled up for the past two years.
His sweat dripped—from his hair, neck, and back.
He was no longer an athlete and should not sweat like this.
“Are you okay?” Dave, his cameraman, said. His new teammate. They were a team from now on until the end of the season. His latest version of Pierre, Tom, or Simon.
“Yeah.” He faked another smile. His feeling was too raw to anything near genuine.
“Let's take a small break.”
Daniel nodded and stepped away from the camera. Slouching, he rested his back on the closest flat surface he could reach. He closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath.
Dave joined him. He put his expensive camera on the ground between them.
The paddock was still relatively quiet. They came very early with no intention to do any kind of reporting. Just to get Daniel ready, get used to being on the other side of the interviews.
“It is a lot, huh?”
“It is.” It fucking was. To come back here after quitting f1 cold turkey. To be in the middle of the circus again.
“Yeah. It'll get better, mate.” Dave patted him on the shoulder.
#####
He was glad, he had packed black shirt for this. Everyone was looking at him as they passed him by. Cold sweat ran through him as he did his best to remember his lines, what to say and the ones he had to avoid.
He was thankful his first driver he could catch was George. He was an angel. He just smiled and blinked his wide eyes as Daniel stumbled with his words.
God, he had lost his charms with words. His english wasn't englishing. He asked a simple question but words it in circles.
After that, when the interview was done. George embraced him. Tight and with a firm pat on the back.
“How are you? It's been ages,” George said.
It was. Ages. A lifetime ago.
“I—I'm good.” It was all his nervous fried brain could muster.
####
He watched from the side as Max got out of his car. Flushed and frustrated. The qualification wasn't good. Max had said the car was not the best. Not up to his standard. Made too much for his teammate.
Daniel understood him. knew how it felt very well.
Max found him too. Glaring at him across the crowded space. Looking only at him.
Daniel straightened his back. Well, It was inevitable. They would run into each other anyway, eventually.
Daniel owed him an apology and an explanation.
Maybe now Max would extract it from him.
He came back to the circus, might as well be face to face with the lion.
He could hide away like how he had done before. Gave an apology to Max for how he had acted since the night he left Marina bay. How Max's texts and calls were unanswered.
He felt like a guilty dog as he walked to max with his tail low and his ears tucked back. He offered a handshake but Max pulled him into a short embrace.
He hoped they weren't in front of a camera. He wanted to apologize and come clean. He was a shit friend. He wanted to tell him how he had planned to reply but his phone was stolen from his Jean's pocket. A lie. But it would be easier to say.
It wouldn't make sense. Of how it happened again and again. Unanswered phone calls and text piled up on his phone since the disastrous night in Singapore.
But at least he didn't do it to Max only. He was fair in his treatment. He had blocked anyone he had known from his f1 career out of his new life.
Someone in his earpiece said to get ready. Their interview was near.
His chest ached when he looked at Max’s eyes. He could tell Max was hurt. He could read it easily. Had seen it years ago. When he had told Max that he didn't sign his red bull extension contract and signed to Renault instead.
Dave started the countdown and a wall in max eyes was there. Gone was the expression. Cold and professional.
Daniel took a deep inhale. He could do this. He cleared his throat before the countdown ended. It should be easy. He had rehearsed this scenario a thousand times after he signed his new contract. He knew and had prepared for interviewing the world champion.
They talked about the result, the car, and the strategy for tomorrow. It was nice. Max was generous with his words and cooperative. Daniel was collected enough to keep the conversation going.
But then—
“How have you been?” Max said out of the blue. He cut Daniel mid question. The wall of ice in his eyes had melted into something else.
Daniel nervously chuckled. Their interview was derailed. Flung from the cliff and free jumping into the abyss.
“You know, like usual, I'm good.” It was all he could give max. He couldn't say that his life in LA was shit. How for two years he had surrounded himself with fake friends who love nothing more than to get him drunk on their podcasts for some red bull dirt.
“Of course, I don't know that. You never reply.”
He was fuming at max brutal honesty. It wasn't the right time to be a cunt.
“We'll talk about this later,” he promised. He pressed his lips into a thin line just to stop stupid words from escaping from his mouth.
“You said that your car is having a difficulty with—”
“My car—I guess we have to make the best of it. We hope we will get better with the new update on the next race. That's all I can say.”
His earpiece guy told him to wrap up.
He thanked Max and let the others take over.
He sighed as the camera indicator light turned off.
“We can talk after I change.”
“Where?” They couldn't talk about it here, in public.
“My driver room? Hospitality? Your choice.”
“I can't go there.”
He hoped Max would understand. He couldn't go back there. He couldn't step inside of it, and played friends with the same shitty people. The one who knew what would had happened but had stayed silent.
“Where are you staying?”
“In my motorhome.”
“They still do that.”
“Yes.”
“Alright, I'll meet you outside of your motorhome.”
every writer runs into that moment where they just hit a roadblock in their quest to story completion, and I am no exception to that rule :,] (*distant sobs are heard in the distance*)
but um long story short, I’m working on more undershelter stuff and like
basically, my brain just needs a creative kickstarter to get all that creativity and good stuffs working again
so!! I’ve decided to host an “asks event” for a few of the characters in undershelter!
course, I need to choose which characters actually get to do that - so I’m using this little poll to gauge interest!! obvs it’s not a guarantee that this poll will line up with who gets chosen, but it’ll certainly be a factor ;D
anywho, have fun voting!!
please enjoy this silly doodle of my author self insert (sid, aka “smartest” dog) having the exact same problems I am rn lmaoooo
Sometimes i think about how mickey used to be geniuenly more all age appealing with some stories even aimed straight up at adults and how really theres nothing truly wrong with wanting there to be more well thought out & mature stuff to come out with him
And that it's really disheartening to think how i & some of my friends woudnt have to worry about feeling weird while talking about him seriously not even for disney pushing him conpletley towards toodler demographic to sell as much merch as possible but because they have been sanitizing the living fuck out out of him and geniuenly refuses to tell any good longer stories that take his character seriously in any way so much that any Non goofy or even slightly relatable or grabbing moments with him are considered shocking
