*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—chapter three: christmas cookies and chaos
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THE TRAIN IS DELAYED. Of course it fucking is. Christelle Leclerc slumps back in her seat, staring out at the rain trickling down the window as the voice of the conductor rings out over the intercoms. An hour. An hour she didn't have to spare.
And it definitely doesn't help that her phone has been vibrating from texts for the past half hour. Mostly from Lorenzo arguing with Charles and Arthur about the sugar cookies. Christelle loves her family, truly, but sometimes they're a bit... much. Especially Charles, who seems to think that her being late is a personal attack on his sanity.
The train finally lurches forward, the rain outside blurring into streaks of light as they head off toward Monaco. She leans her head back against the seat, closing her eyes. Exhaustion stemming from her frustration is creeping in after a whirlwind week in France—a brief escape from the relentless world of Formula 1.
Her mind wanders to the season that had just ended. 2021 had been tough. Alfa Romeo hadn't exactly been competitive, and while Kimi Räikkönen is one of the many legends in the sport, he isn't exactly the most talkative teammate. Still, he had taught her a lot from the three seasons she's spent here—mostly through observation rather than conversation.
And then there's George Russell.
The thought alone is enough to cause her to frown. George isn't someone she thinks about often. They aren't close—not like she is with Mathilde Lévesque or Lando or Alex. But there's something about him that lingers in her mind, a quiet presence that she couldn't quite shake. Maybe it's the way he carries himself, always so composed, even when things aren't going his way. Or maybe it's the way his blue eyes seem to hold a thousand thoughts he never ays aloud.
Not that it matters.
They're just acquaintances, nothing more. And besides, she'd made a promise to Charles and Arthur years ago—no dating anyone on the grid.
Her frustration only worsens as the train continues to rattle along the track. The hum of the wheels is doing little to soothe her as she stares at her cellphone, the device left open to the messages app for nearly ten more minutes. It's probably the fiftieth time she's checked her messages in the past hour. She actually has no idea—she's lost count a while ago. The most recent text in the family group chat had been from Charles, who had sent her a "???" in an attempt to figure out why she wasn't home yet.
She sighs as she leans back in her seat. She should have gotten a train ticket from this morning, then she would have been home already. But she had ended up leaving France around two o'clock that afternoon and the train had been delayed twice. First, there had been a signal issue. Then, someone had decided to pull the emergency brake. Now, she's stuck somewhere between Aix-en-Provence and Monaco with no idea if she'd even make it home in time for dinner.
