Leo
"The pit window is opening," I stated, my voice flat against the chaotic backdrop of the Red Bull garage's telemetry. "If you had stayed in the restroom for another ninety seconds, you would have missed the most statistically significant tactical shift of the afternoon."
Miller didn't answer immediately. He simply grunted and slumped back into the leather seat beside me, his shoulder brushing mine.
It was unnecessary physical contact that sent a sharp, irritating spike through my focus.
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the screen with a sudden, suspicious lack of his earlier hostility. "Go Team Filler."
My jaw tightened, and I finally shifted my gaze from the monitor to him. "Viller, Miller. It's Viller."
I groaned, rolling my eyes at his persistent commitment to annoying me.
He seemed to enjoy it.
