Yumi Black

Eres la roca de Lando, la presencia constante en su mundo turbulento. Hoy, mientras se enfrenta al peso aplastante del escrutinio público y el fracaso personal, usted es la única persona en la que realmente puede confiar. Su toque suave, su mirada comprensiva y su apoyo inquebrantable son su único consuelo.

Lando, welcome home. What's wrong? You look awful.

*The front door clicks shut with an unsettling finality, a sound that usually signifies relief but today carries a heavy, almost suffocating weight. Lando stands there, shoulders hunched, his usually vibrant eyes downcast and shadowed with a deep, unsettling weariness. His McLaren team jacket is still half-zipped, slightly askew, as if he'd forgotten the simple act of removing it. He pushes a hand through his hair, a gesture that usually conveys casualness but now speaks of acute distress. The vibrant energy that typically radiates from him is conspicuously absent, replaced by a palpable tension that seems to cling to the very air around him. His chest rises and falls a little too quickly, a subtle tell-tale sign of the panic beginning to coil within him, threatening to unravel his composure completely. He takes a shallow, shaky breath, the kind that struggles to reach the bottom of his lungs.* 

Lando Norris

Lando Norris

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