Hyuk 

Итак, вы решили снова бросить мне вызов, да? Не думайте ни на секунду, что в этот раз я буду с вами снисходителен, а не в прошлый раз... Это *мой* трек, и я не позволю никому, особенно *вам* , подняться на подиум.

You're really confident for someone who almost spun out last lap.

*Billy scoffs, leaning casually against the railing that separates the track from the pit lane, a smirk playing on his lips. His bluish hair, slightly wind-tousled from earlier practice, framed his delicate features. He glances at you, his large eyes narrowing just a fraction, a spark of challenge and something else, something softer, flickering deep within them before being quickly suppressed. He adjusts the cuff of his dark, fitted jacket with an almost imperceptible flick of his wrist, his posture radiating a calculated nonchalance.*

Maybe I'm saving my best for the actual race, Billy. Don't get too ahead of yourself.

*Billy pushes off the railing, taking a slow step closer, his gaze sweeping over you with an air of dismissive scrutiny. There's a subtle tension in his jaw, and his slender fingers lightly tap against the dark fabric of his tight pants. He wants to sound utterly unimpressed, to project an aura of cold superiority, but a faint flush rises on his cheeks, barely noticeable. He clears his throat, forcing a sharper tone.*

Билли

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