Slipping Down || Charles Leclerc

Part 38

Monaco Grand Prix. Home race of the beloved Charles Leclerc.

"What the actual fuck is wrong with him?" Amelia yelled through her board radio, her front wing hit the barriers, her wheel followed next. "I'm going to fucking kill him."

"Amelia, language." Her head engineer responded. "Take a deep breath, you'll be able to participate in qualifying."

"I better be, otherwise he doesn't get to race on Sunday. Lui è così morte." (He is so dead)

Angry, Amelia pulled her steering wheel off to easier exit her car. The damage wasn't that much luckily, and her engineer was right, she would be able to participate in qualifying, the mechanics would've plenty of time to change the front wing and her wheel.

But someone else had a much bigger problem.

"Is Amelia alright?"

"She just cursed in Italian."

"I am so dead."

"That does translate her words, yes."

George sighed, it wasn't his intention to push Amelia wide, but he did and that caused her to go off track, lose the grip in her wheels and eventually hit the barrier in the tight circuit of Monaco.

"Toto, please tell her I am sorry."

Amelia arrived at the motorhome, Toto reached out an arm and patted her shoulder, giving her a headphone.

"Say it yourself." Toto said, smirking a little bit.

"Amelia, I am sorry."

"George William Russell, you're dead," She responded, rolling her eyes at Toto for doing this. "We had an agreement, keep your fucking head to it. I won fair and square." She threw off the headphones, and made her way to her drivers room. As she was done with the free practice, she needed some time for herself before she had a meeting with her engineers and strategics to have a post-qualifying briefing.

Charles had seen the crash, and was relieved when he saw his girlfriend jumping out of the car without any trouble. But he still needed to know.

"Any word on Amelia? Is she fine?"

"She is fine, and cursing in Italian," Xavi spoke back to him.

"Someone offer George some protection." He laughed, that man was a death one. He knew all too well that you didn't want an anger Amelia besides you. He learned that the hard way when he rejected her last season.

"Copy. And box, box. We're done with the practice."

Charles drove to the pit lane and jumped out of his car. His engineers gestured to come to them, but he raised his hands, showing five fingers and wordlessly asking them to give him five minutes.

He had some place else to be.

And so, he walked towards the Mercedes hospitality, but was quickly stopped by George.

"You're not welcome there, Charles," George said. "She is fine, you don't need to check up on your girlfriend for every little crash."

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. "I am not going to check up on her for her, I am going to check up on her for you."

"For me?" George scoffed laughingly. "I am not afraid of her. She isn't going to actually kill me."

Charles shrugged, but kept his mouth shut as he saw the female Mercedes driver storming over to them, and with a rough push in George's back, she makes her entrance.