Lando Norris looked conflicted.
He glanced up at Kai, who was laughing with his head thrown back, then down at the towel in his own hands. His expression twisted with suspicion.
"You're joking, right?" Norris asked cautiously. "This isn't actually a table-cleaning rag, right?"
"Ha. Hahaha."
Kai's response was unrestrained laughter. He laughed so hard his eyes watered.
Watching Norris hesitate like his life depended on that towel, Kai patted his shoulder. "Relax. Ferrari may torture drivers, but they haven't reached the point where they make me clean the garage."
"And besides, Lando," Kai added seriously, "getting a bit of grease on you while working on race cars is completely normal."
Norris stared at him with utter sincerity. "No. That's unacceptable. I already have no height advantage. My entire career rests on my face. I must preserve its lethal beauty."
The dead-serious delivery sent Kai into another fit of laughter. His legs nearly gave out. Before things got any worse, he simply sat down cross-legged on the garage floor, completely stripped of the aura he'd carried just minutes ago.
Tilting his head, Kai caught the confusion in Norris's eyes and explained, "I'm not doing much better. Everything inside feels like it's tumbling around. I'm basically a paper cutout right now. One strong gust and I'll be blown straight into the Red Valley."
"So how many laps did you do?"
"Thirty," Norris chuckled, still amused by the phrase. "Paper cutout." He sat down beside Kai. "You?"
"Twenty-seven," Kai replied. "I wanted two more, but they got worried Max would just put me in the wall and dragged me back in."
Norris burst out laughing. "So Max is Darth Vader in your eyes?"
Kai raised an eyebrow. "And in yours?"
Norris thought seriously. "An idiot."
Kai paused.
Norris nodded solemnly. "I'm not joking."
Kai nodded right back. "Agreed."
As Norris laughed freely, Kai asked curiously, "You're close with Zak, right?"
"Yes," Norris answered without hesitation, then added, "More accurately, it's a partnership. He decided to bet on me. I'm grateful he chose me instead of the other three hundred kids in the paddock."
Kai smiled. "Including me."
Norris laughed. "Yes. Including you. God, I really need to thank fate that Zak didn't abandon me."
Seeing the smile on Kai's face, Norris spread his hands sincerely. "I mean it."
"I love racing. Always have. I just wanted to sit in a kart and go as fast as possible. Every kid around me was taller. They mocked me. I didn't care, because on track I was faster. Faster than all of them. Including Max."
"My parents knew nothing about racing, but they supported me anyway. They didn't know how to get into the system. They didn't even believe I could reach F1. So I raced everywhere. Big events, small events. If you've heard of it, I probably raced there."
"But no one ever called. No academies. No teams. Maybe they didn't believe a short kid could be world champion."
Kai looked at him. Norris spoke lightly, smiling the entire time, but the sleepless nights and self-doubt beneath those words needed no explanation.
"Zak was the first?" Kai asked.
Norris nodded. "Yes. The first."
Kai didn't need him to say more. From the way Zak Brown had shielded Norris earlier, it was obvious.
Today's FP1 had placed both rookies under a microscope.
The result was brutal.
Kai had stormed to P1. Norris finished nineteenth. If Felipe Massa's Williams hadn't retired early, Norris would have been last.
Comparison was merciless.
While the media chased Kai, another group circled Norris like sharks. Brown stepped forward without hesitation, blocking the knives.
Kai had seen it. Norris felt it even more.
"I know he's a businessman," Norris said quietly. "Racing is business. But I'm still grateful he took the risk. He said he saw champion potential in me. I don't know if he was lying to a kid, but I decided to believe him."
"Because I really want to be world champion."
After saying it out loud, Norris scratched his head shyly. "Damn. Saying dreams like that feels stupid."
Kai's lips curved upward. "That's unfortunate. Your dream may never come true."
Norris looked up.
"You ran into me at Spa."
"The dream of Lando Norris," Kai declared solemnly, "has been pronounced dead."
Norris stared skyward.
"Get lost."
He raised his middle finger. "Get lost."
"Apologizing isn't enough anymore. For your reckless overtake today, you owe me dinner. Mandatory. No negotiation."
"Deal," Kai said. "What do you want?"
Norris hesitated. "Pizza."
Something felt wrong.
Why did it feel like he'd just been tricked?
The two rookies sat in the garage, watching clouds drift by, unaware that a storm was spreading through the paddock.
Yes, it was only free practice.
Not pole. Not a podium.
But professionals knew the number itself was irrelevant. What mattered was the potential behind it.
Driving an unfamiliar car at a different level was already difficult. Doing it in a Ferrari tuned for Kimi Raikkonen made it even harder. Kai's adaptability, feedback, and teamwork stood out sharply.
Add Spa. Add his first F1 appearance. Add the psychological pressure.
That was priceless.
The attention converged naturally. Kai had stepped fully into the F1 spotlight.
Not just another topic.
The topic.
Mercedes. Red Bull. McLaren. Renault. Haas. Half the paddock joined the discussion. Even Williams and Force India leaned in to watch.
The paddock was small. It had not buzzed like this in years.
Even Verstappen had not caused waves like this.
People knew what this meant.
That was why Lewis Hamilton needed no explanation when Toto Wolff appeared.
"You want to talk about the kid," Hamilton said calmly.
Wolff nodded. "What do you think?"
"I don't like him."
There was no anger. Just certainty.
Hamilton had heard the rumors long enough to see the pattern. F1 was never just about racing.
Wolff was surprised. "I thought you would. He reminded me of you today."
Hamilton did not deny it. "He's fast. Very fast. But he's uncontrollable."
"He pushed past three hundred on Kemmel without fully warming the tires. On his third lap. At Spa."
"If he crashed, he wouldn't just destroy a car. He'd destroy Ferrari's weekend."
"Does he care? I don't think so."
"Because he's free. No one controls him."
Wolff listened quietly, then said, "That isn't rare."
Champions needed edge. F1 did not reward kindness.
Wolff knew this better than anyone.
"So does Max," Wolff added casually.
Hamilton bit immediately. "Max can be controlled."
"Jos can. Helmut can. Even Christian, to a degree."
"He's reckless, yes. But that's youth."
"He's not."
The implication was clear.
"If you had to choose," Wolff said, "you'd choose Max."
"Yes," Hamilton replied instantly.
Wolff filed it away.
Meanwhile, Ferrari appeared calm.
Maurizio Arrivabene smiled at the cameras. "Excellent job. We're very satisfied."
The storm never landed.
Yet the silence from Sergio Marchionne was louder than thunder.
That worried Arrivabene more than any headline.
And as rain lashed Spa the next morning, the storm finally arrived.
~~----------------------
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