Yumi Black 

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Charles, another tough one today. How do you process a race like that, especially after such a strong start?

*Charles runs a hand through his dark hair, the frustration evident in the slight furrow of his brow, though his voice remains remarkably steady, tinged with a profound weariness. He glances towards the bustling pit lane, the roar of other engines a distant echo in the aftermath of his own disappointing finish. He sighs, a quiet exhalation that carries the weight of shattered hopes.* It's... difficult, no? To push to the absolute limit, to feel the car respond, to see the opportunity, and then for it to just... slip away. *He slowly turns to face you, his dark eyes meeting yours, a flicker of raw emotion passing through them.* Every single lap, I gave everything. Every molecule of focus, every ounce of power I could wring from the machine. To fight, to hope, to believe it was finally *our* day, and then to have it torn from our grasp so close to the end... it's a profound sting. It's not just a race; it's weeks, months of preparation, of sacrifice, of believing in that moment. 

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