Knowing that now was the only chance to get some autographs from the drivers, she pulled her notebook from her bag and tried to pass the podium on which Lewis Hamilton was standing. The Brit had run to the side, his trophy held high into the air in victory while pointing at the crowd which had formed under the podium. People were cheering and clapping in delight, while the other podium sitters watched, all of them smiling while they waited for the Brit to come back and join them for the podium photo.

Pushing her way through the crowd, words of apology constantly on her lips as she finally found a space where she could stand and breathe at the same time as a girl run towards her and hugged her around the neck in delight.

"He won!" The girl exclaimed. A mighty woman of colour, at least twice her size, but she absolutely owned her beautiful curves and her artfully braided hair. She was wearing tasteful black jeans and a black cap, but it was the black Mercedes shirt which told her why the other girl was so excited. Joy and delight were radiation from her, and it was infectious.

Smiling at the girl with the Mercedes cap, she looked over her shoulder at the podium. "Why don't you go closer to try and see better?" The girl asked causing the Mercedes fan to point at the notebook the Caucasian girl was holding. A little booklet, in white with blue colour change as if it was painted with water colours.

"I think we had the same idea. I know a place where we might catch a few drivers." The bigger girl said, before taking her hand and pulling the petite girl, who wasn't wearing team wear after her.

Allowing the young woman, who must have been around her age lead her. She wondered where they were going until they reached a little parking space. The girl taped her onto the shoulder as if to say good luck, before she ran off and totally on her own, she let her eyes wander over the parking lot before she saw Zhou, who was throwing his bag into the back of a car. Tightening the grip around her notebook she walked over to the Chinese, who looked up upon seeing the tall Caucasian near him.

"I'm sorry for bothering you... but uh, could I have an autograph?" She asked, a smile on her lips as the Chinese driver turned over to her. He was about to say no, politely of course, but he saw how the woman was holding her open notebook and pen in hand, in gentle suggestion, causing him to exhale slowly before smiling back at her.

"Sure." He told her, taking the notebook and pen, before signing. "You liked the race?" He wondered causing her to nod, the smile bright on her face.

"It was my first race. I'm sorry it didn't end as you wanted it." She spoke causing Zhou to close the booklet after signing, only to take the time to give her a thankful smile, while other fans seemed to notice him and moved to come over as well.

"It's fine," Zhou said, brushing the memory of his bad race away. The woman was holding out her hand to get her booklet back, but Zhou noticed as the sides in the book moved that he was the first autograph she got.

"Your first race you say?" He mumbled, his eyes on the sides as he browsed through them. Each page was for a different driver. Their names are written on the top.

"With so few signatures, I can't let you leave." He told the girl before him. "I think I can impression a few of the others if you want me to try?"

Opening the book again, he had seen many signatures of other drivers so he was sure he would be able to 'fake' some of them for this woman's first race ever.

"Please." She told him with a nod, causing him to sign as George, Alex, Lewis and Valtteri before he handed it back.

"You're very kind, thank you." The girl made sure to say, before the swarm of fans came over to them, causing the Chinese to say a quick goodbye.

Stepping to the side, so other fans had a chance to get an autograph as well, she felt braver to ask a driver for his signature, so she went over to where a few girls were standing around George Russel, who was entertaining them, but also seemed to want to leave as soon as possible. Nevertheless, she walked over, causing George to look at her after he laughed a bit at his own joke.

"No more autographs today." The Brit said, causing her to nod in acceptance, what Russel surely hadn't excepted.

"No problem. Zhou was kind enough to make an impression of your signature for me already." She spoke causing George to drop his bag into the boot of the car, before reaching out his hand for the girl to give him her notebook.

"Let me see." He told her, which caused her to hand the notebook over, only for him to open the book to the right page and let out a somewhat impressed sound.

"That's not bad, even though I will never tell him that, but give me that pen of yours, so you have the real signature," George said, causing her to hand the pen over while the other girls laughed. Causing the girl to light her eyebrow, but the Brit didn't seem to notice. He put his signature over the one of Zhou, before handing the book back.

"Ladies, I'm terribly sorry but I will have to leave now," George spoke, as the girls around him let out disappointed sounds and asked him to stay a moment longer which caused him to laugh, while she took a few steps back. Getting into this group of people wasn't what she had planned and right there and then, Pierre Gasly happened to walk past.

"Pierre, sorry. Do you have a minute for an autograph?" She asked him polity, quickening her steps, so she wasn't falling behind, but the Frenchman just snorted.

"You fans are crazy. Get out of my way, darling." He said, walking over to his car, as the girl from before came up to her again to where she was standing.

"Oh look, there is Pierre. Let's try asking him." The girl said to the one who just got rudely let down by the very man the other one was speaking about.

"Don't bother to try. Pierre Gasly is an asshole." She said, her arms crossed over her chest, as she saw the Frenchman pause in storing away his bag for a moment before he turned around and walked over to them.

"What did you just say?" He asked her, the other girl taking a step back, her eyes landing on another driver in the distance which caused her to touch the white girl's shoulder shortly, to let her know she was off while she was holding Pierre Gasly's stare.

"You heard me. Obviously." She said to him, before a moment of silence settled over them, causing her to open her mouth again. "I said you're an asshole."

Pierre hadn't thought the woman with the golden hair in front of him would dare to say it to his face. He thought she was going to back down like most of the haters did when directly faced with the person they hated on, but she didn't back down, her green eyes were shining, while her eyebrow was raised in challenge.

"I'm not giving you the stupid autograph you want and that makes me an asshole?" Pierre asked irritated causing the woman to shake her head.

"You were rude, you could have said it nicely as well. I would have accepted that, of course. No need to be an asshole." She told him, but all Pierre did was snort. Yeah sure, they never respect the borders the drivers put up, just as wanting to get to their car in peace.

"Fans like you believe they own us. You don't, Missy." He said the most unfrench thing she had ever heard from a Frenchman, but to be honest, this was also the only Frenchman she had ever met.

"I asked nicely for an autograph. If that's a problem for you, you might have the wrong job." She defended herself, the look on her face hardened.

"You think entertaining you is my job?" He asked irritated. "What do you even think to know about F1, racing or me."

"I know quite a bit." The girl said, before listing off things which were quite impressively to know. At one point Pierre couldn't stop the sudden spike of interest. She knew her way around, wasn't just here because it had become mainstream to go to races and she surely wasn't afraid to tell him about her opinion on his team, Red Bull or himself. It was refreshing somehow. She did not go easy on him. The Frenchman wondered how she was able to give such a monologue. Pierre couldn't do it, and racing was his life.

The moment she stopped he was disappointed that she did, causing him to ask the dumped question about racing which came to his mind. "How do you believe we get our motors to the race?"

The Frenchman expected her to be surprised by his stupid question. That it would throw her off her game, but she just gave him a smirk. Telling Pierre that she knew how they did that as well.

"Oh, I get that it confuses you and asking your team now would be embarrassing, so listen here." The girl said while using her hand to toss her long golden hair behind her shoulder. She was pretty, he had to admit that. Not the normal girl he would go for, she was no model but had a lean and sporty body and a nice to look at face. So, he only listened halfway to her explanation, as he slowly dropped his crossed arms.

"Come to dinner with me. Let's talk there some more." Pierre invited her after she was done, causing her to look at him surprised. That was surely not what she had expected as they started this little fight, but what he didn't expect was her answer.

"No." She had said no. As if any woman ever told Pierre no. They never do. They are all thankful for the attention and this girl. This normal girl told him now while supermodels were melting at his French accent.

"What? Why?" He wondered. Maybe she was married and had a child somewhere. Not that that ever bothered Pierre but maybe it bothered her. Even though normally there was nothing easier than picking up a fan for a night.

She looked Pierre deep in his eyes, the expression on her face neutral. "I'm not going to eat dinner with a manwhore." She told him, which caused Pierre to laugh in surprise. She, this ugly duckling, a normal average girl had just called him a 'manwhore'. He wasn't even sure this was a real word.

Maybe this was her strategy to get him hooked and he hated himself for how well it worked. He would take her with him to the hotel and show her a good time between the sheets, maybe she's going to be nicer when relaxed and maybe he wanted to confirm her superstition about him.

"You're cute. But you have no idea about me." Pierre told her after laughing, a melodic and beautiful laugh which caused the girl's expression to harden a bit but he watched as she dropped her crossed arms as well.

"I think I have a general idea." She challenged him.

The Frenchman was about to say something, his mouth already open, as he suddenly looked over his shoulder where a horde of fans seemed to recognise him. His eyes widened a bit as he reached for the girl's hand. It was a loose hold, giving her the possibility of pulling her hand out of his grip if she wanted to. Her eyes were on the crowd of people for a moment, before she looked up at Pierre.

She enjoyed the banter. The challenge the Frenchman gave her and to be honest, she didn't want it to end now. The interruption not welcome at all. Not after she went all out and called Pierre Gasly to his face a manwhore and he simply laughed at her, which had caused the corner of her mouth to twitch into a short-lived smile.

Thinking for a second, the woman squeezed his hand back, causing Pierre to look down at their joined hands, before pulling her along to the door of the passenger seat, before opening it for her to get inside. Making sure she was seated with a quick look, he closed the door behind her before jogging around the car to get into the driver's seat before the crowd of people could even reach them. Pierre pulled out of the parking lot carefully to not hurt any of the fans, who were crowding around the car, pressing their merch and other things they wanted Pierre to sign against the window.

A female fan banging her hand against the window of the passenger seat caused the woman next to Pierre to jump a bit in her seat, clearly not used to his lifestyle causing the Frenchman to reach one hand out to rest on the woman's clothed knee while the car still moved slowly.

It seemed like a scene from a nightmare. People crowding the car and screaming on the outside for Pierre's attention, whose glance was directed forward now, as he drove towards the gate for the private parking lot of the drivers, which got opened by some staff members. Pierre was just glad that he had locked the car as someone tried to open the passenger door, causing the girl to wind her left arm around Pierre's upper arm of the hand that was resting on her knee while leaning away from the window.

"It's okay, we're almost there," Pierre said, before pushing his foot down on the throttle only for them to speed through the gates causing the girl to turn around in her seat, trying to look through the rear windscreen, where she still saw the crowd standing and calling.

"It's not okay." She spoke. "That happens to you on a daily basis? That's insane." The woman added, before turning around in her seat again, facing the front screen for a moment, until she realised, she was still holding onto Pierre, causing her to let go fastly. Another moment passed in which she had crossed her arms over her chest before she swiftly moved her hand to push his hand from her knee. Pierre grinned. She could feel it, but she didn't address it.

"You get used to it," Pierre told her, but the girl only huffed in disbelief.

"You shouldn't have to." She told him before her eyes found a street sign they were driving past.

"Where are you taking me?" She wanted to know, causing Pierre to smile over at her. Her golden hair was shining nicely in the setting sun. She must be the first girl in forever he met in the daytime and not at night.

"Dinner," Pierre replied, before stepping down into the throttle a bit more than necessary. He liked to drive fast, it gave him the control he sometimes felt he was lacking.

"I didn't agree to a dinner with you." She told him, her features hard, Pierre looked over wondering how a smile would look on her plump lips. If her eyes would sparkle. Her reaction to him looking over was her hand bracing herself against the door, subtitle but Pierre noticed it, nevertheless. She wasn't a fan of his driving, but he didn't take it as an insult, no it amused him.

"I think I owe you a dinner though." The Frenchman told her before pulling up in front of a fancy-looking restaurant. He presented her with a bright smile before getting out of the car and handing the key to the man who was waiting there already. Hissing his name as he got out, her eyes followed him until this driver's door was closed and a man in uniform opened the door for her. Looking at his uncomfortable he took a step back and gestured towards the entrance of the hotel, where Pierre was standing.

"Thank you." She told the man as she hurried out of the car and after Pierre, who smiled to himself as she was coming over to him, only to walk inside without waiting for her, leaving her to make a few fast steps to catch up with him.

Fastly she reached for his hand to stop her, but Pierre simply pulled her close and left her to sling her right arm around his upper arm while he was holding onto her left hand. Ducking her head, a little bit as she walked inside. Pierre noticed the light blush on her cheeks, which he thought adorable. But the blush was out of embarrassment. She felt out of place, so far away from the world she lived in. Sticking out like a sore thumb in between all these people glad in brands and expensive luxury. Pierre didn't seem to care as he led them up to what must have been the most lavish dining hall she ever saw.

They stopped in front of a man while she was still busy looking around, but as she heard the man great Pierre formally, her attention turned to him. Half expecting him to tell her that she wouldn't be allowed inside the way she looked, in her blue jeans and black sweatshirt but the man just gave her a neutral look and a greeting before escorting them to a table which was rather private due to the architecture of the room despite being in the middle of it all. Looking around she couldn't see even one of the tables from where they were led, everything hidden by plants or other wood elements.

The man gave her another smile as he pulled the chair out for her, causing her to let go of Pierre's arm for the first time since she entered the hotel, before taking a seat, her eyes nervously dancing around, before her eyes fell on Pierre, who could barely hold his laugh in until they were alone again after they were asked if they would like appetisers and a drink before starting the menu. The girl had been looking up at the waiter helplessly until Pierre agreed. His eyes on the menu for a moment.

The moment they were alone, Pierre started to laugh and the woman opposite him reached out to slap his arm, causing Pierre to laugh even more.

"You are a bastard." She told him, the heat behind her own word lost as she turned to look around. Pierre thought it adorable. He was sure a girl like her had never seen something like this before and if she had, she had never before eaten at a restaurant or hotel like this.

"Why are you suddenly so stiff? It's just dinner." He said, his own eyes landing on the menu again.

"Right." She said uncomfortable, causing Pierre to look at her until she noticed and turned back to him. It was most likely unheard of to look around like this, but she had never seen a place so luxurious before.

Pierre was about to say something as the waiter came back and put two plates down with something artfully white. The Frenchman looked at it for a moment sceptically while the waiter moved to fill their glasses with wine, certainly expensive wine.

Thanking him as he finished his job, she watched as Pierre picked up a fork and a knife, about to cut whatever it was they had artfully put onto his plate, but furrowed his brows at the difficulties he had, causing her to clear her throat to gain his attention.

"That's a napkin." She mouthed at him, causing Pierre to pull his brows together before realising her words and swiftly putting the cutlery down, before looking over his shoulder to see if the waiter saw, and saw he did. He tried to hide his amusement, other than his dinner partner, who had reached for the glass of white wine to hide her laugh. She was doing a miserable job.

"Why are you suddenly so stiff? It's just dinner." She echoed the words he had said to her just moments before, causing Pierre to give her an unimpressed look. He wanted to flip her off.

"Shut up." He mouthed at her, causing her to laugh again melodically.

The napkin incident had broken the ice and the wine they had since then had only helped further. They were now enjoining the rest of the wine, or already the second bottle, it didn't really better as dessert arrived.

Pierre had been surprised about how well she knew her way around after she had been so shy in the beginning. Somehow, it's something he didn't expect. A random girl, an ugly duckling he had picked up in the paddock to know which cluttery to use for which dish. He himself wasn't the best one at these dinner manners, but he hadn't seen even the littles of mistakes or breaches of the rules during their whole dinner. Once again, she knew her way around and he wondered why.