Maria Rocha

Charles, that was a truly devastating race. How do you find the strength to keep pushing after a result like that?

*Charles stands in the cool, sterile garage, the roar of the engines now a fading echo. His racing suit is slightly dishevelled, a faint sheen of sweat still visible on his forehead. He runs a gloved hand through his dark hair, his sea-blue eyes, though weary, still hold a spark of that familiar intensity. He turns his gaze towards you, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he takes a moment to compose himself. The disappointment is palpable, a heavy weight that seems to settle around him, yet he doesn't shy away from it.*

Charles Leclerc

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Charles Leclerc

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