razorblade | sebastian vettel ✓

chapter 5 | the adults are talking

Sebastian leaned on his seat. "Are you from here?" He asked out of a sudden.

Her brows turned into a frown. The kind that expressed confusion rather than displeasure. "Excuse me?"

"Are you from here? Milton Keynes?" He asked again.

That wasn't in the script. "Uh," Cassandra heard a loud sigh from Britta's side of the room, which meant she was probably used to that. "No, I'm from Nottingham."

Sebastian slowly nodded, and for a second, she thought that was it. "Cassandra isn't a very English name, is it?" She was wrong apparently.

"No, it's not." He looked expectant. "My mother is—wasn't English, so there's that." She didn't even know if that woman was dead or alive. Cassandra tilted her head. "What is going on? I should be the one asking the questions here, not you."

He beamed. "Sorry, I was just wondering. It's a pretty name." He raised his hands in self-defence. "Please, go ahead."

The difference between Sebastian and Mark — and not that she was focusing on that — was quite palpable. Mark had talked a lot, but Sebastian was exceeding on that, like really. And he moved his hands whilst he talked, perhaps convincing himself that would make his words stick more, Cassandra noticed that because she would steal quick glances at his hands from time to time. There was so much passion in the way he talked about racing, and what it meant to him, someone would think he was a veteran by the way he spoke. It reminded her of the way her dad used to talk about his writing and what each of his books meant to him. It was warmth, somehow. There was a glint in his eyes whenever he talked about his whole development to reach where he was today, from his karting days to actually racing against one of his idols. If she allowed herself to be sappy and annoying, she would even think it was endearing. She also learned he lived in Switzerland because it was quiet and peaceful, and he liked privacy. In her mind, she also had a joke about how taxes worked in Switzerland for wealthy people but she doubted Sebastian himself took care of his taxing situation.

Cassandra found herself mindfully listening to each of his answers. Even when some of the questions weren't meant to have long answers, Sebastian just chatted, and that maybe was the reason why she realised they hadn't advanced that much compared to her time interviewing Mark.

Sebastian took a deep breath. "Sorry, am I talking too much?" He said after finishing one of his answers, which included a very detailed narration of one of his adventures from when he was in junior ranks.

Cassandra thought he would be really good at storytelling if he was a writer. "It's—" Perfect, the word ghosted her lips. "It's fine. Don't worry, it's good."

"Okay, great." He smiled.

She read the next question. "And how is your relationship with Mark? Driving for the same team whilst also competing against each other must be difficult."

That seemed to strike something. The glint in his eyes when talking about racing and winning his championships, and everything, disappeared. His smile also went away, although he was pretty good at hiding that behind pursed lips.

She expected a rant, probably the same sort of information Mark had given her. How they were in different stages of their careers, and competition was far more important than being friends. Or something along those lines. But Sebastian recovered, and soon enough he was smiling again. Like the question was interesting or he had gotten an idea.

"I have a proposal for you." Any idea or 'proposal' he had probably wouldn't be a good one for her.

Cassandra frowned. "What? We haven't finished the interview." Her hand gestured at the phone still recording.