On the very next day, Max did as he had promised and came to visit Pierre, the little booklet in hand as the Frenchman told him to come inside, before gingerly accepting the booklet with a bright smile, which caused Max to roll his eyes as he followed Pierre into the kitchen as the Frenchman handed the younger man a can of Red Bull. Pierre had put the booklet down onto the kitchen island, Max leaning next to him on his underarms to see what Pierre was looking at.

"How exactly does that help you to find her again?" Max asked while Pierre turned the pages fastly but gently, so he wouldn't damage them, looking for something he had seen so often. The moment he found the page, he happily held it up almost in triumph, before nearly shoving it into Max's face from all the excitement he was feeling.

"Her sketches? There are over 50 in this book, Pierre." Max pointed out, not sure what the Frenchman had planned. He watched as Pierre moved to take a photo of the chameleon she had drawn, sitting on a branch of a tree and a fly sitting on the top of its long tongue.

"Exactly." The Frenchman said, before sending the picture to one of his contacts. "She will see them and know I think of her, try to find her," Pierre explained excited, causing Max to snort while watching Pierre make another photo of an elephant and a very cool-looking car. Max had looked at the sketches as well as the book was in his possession.

"She will think you're an asshole who steals her art," Max told him with a snort, before taking a sip from his Red Bull, but as he saw how Pierre stopped sending the pictures to his contacts only to look up at him, his expression fell.

"That's not ..." The Frenchman started to speak before he paused. "...you think so." He asked his friend who shook his head.

"I was just joking, Pierre," Max told him fast. "For real. Try everything to find your Cinderella." He added causing the Frenchman to nod.

He didn't want her to think he was stealing her art. He would never. Pierre thought it a good way to let her know that he was looking for her. A way to make her notice the effort he put in to find her, so he can return the booklet to her.

He had a plan in place for that and he wouldn't back out now, just because it might make him look completely crazy. Pierre was sure that he was absolutely bonkers anyways. So he asked Pyry to order two white T-shirts with the sketches printed on them. The Chameleon hanging over the right side of his chest and the other shirt, the elephant sitting on his belly. While the car design had o find another place. The side of his helmet. She simply had to notice that.

<><><>

Pierre was overly excited and giggly as Pyry handed him the packet with the t-shirts. It was race week and he should wear Alpha Tauri gear when he turned up at the track for the race, but there was no chance of him doing that when he finally held his ticket of finding her in his hands. It was the Chameleon shirt he tried on first, it fitted nicely and the sketch looked as if it was directly out of the booklet, fully to his satisfaction.

"How do I look?" He asked Pyry with a smile on his lips which caused the performance coach to smile as well. He could see the happiness in Pierre, he was so stupidly proud of himself for thinking of showing of her art as a way to make her contact him. Pyry really hoped it worked, so whether his friend would get the change with her he so clearly wanted, even though he said he only tried to find her to give the booklet back, or she would tell him that there was nothing to hope for which would set Pierre free again. As his friend and performance coach, he didn't know what he wanted to happen. All he knew was that wearing this shirt with a sketched Chameleon on was, brought Pierre joy he hadn't seen in years.

"It looks good," Pyry said after a moment causing Pierre to smile at him before taking his backpack. They had a race to attend after all, but before that, Pierre wanted to make sure the Chameleon was nicely featured in the first post of his in over five months by now. The Frenchman was sure people would share his first post in months enough to make her notice.

"Can you make a pic, before we go though?" Pierre asked Pyry before handing the phone over. He moved outside on the balcony and turned to the camera, only to rest both of his underarms on the handrails, his legs crossed at the ankles. That way the shirt was perfectly in the focus of the picture while Pierre turned his face to the side, a hint o a smile noticeable.

Pyry took a few photos before showing Pierre, who was fast to decide on one, before getting the little booklet. Some of the notes would pass perfectly as captions and that's exactly what he had planned. If the shirts weren't enough, he still had the notes and he would use all of them if it meant he would find her.

"What do you think is the better caption?" Pierre asked Pyry while holding onto the open book, before looking over at the performance coach.

"Sometimes you have to allow yourself to be beaten." Pierre read out loud. "Or 'my Quasimodo heart'? I quite like this one, it's rather unique." The Frenchman said causing his friend to exhale. Why again did Verstappen hand the booklet back to Pierre even though Yuki believed it to be cursed and Charles had forbidden it?

"She had serious problems, you do realise that right?" Pyry asked, causing Pierre to wave him off.

"She's artsy." He said in her defence before deciding on the 'Quasimodo heart' because of the Chameleon covering right the space underneath his heart was beating.

Pierre put the booklet into his backpack with one hand while being on his phone with his other one, before he picked it up and carried it over his shoulder. His eyes still clued to the screen as if he expected her to pop up in his DMs right away. Pyry knew that that wouldn't happen.

"Crazy you mean." He muttered under his breath while following Pierre, who didn't react to what his performance coach said if he heard it.

Pyry wondered what she was doing for a living. If she's that 'artsy' she might be a tattoo artist, but Pierre hadn't mentioned any tattoos on her skin nor had he seen any on her skin on one of the many pictures which didn't mean she didn't have some, but it was rather unusual for a tattoo artist to not have any.

The whole way to the garage, Pierre took his sweet time with his fans. Another thing she changed. He was never comfortable with having fans or signing stuff and them demanding things from him, but now he took it all with a smile. Always a moment to spare for a fan, to take a picture, to sign their stuff, but Pyry wasn't stupid, he was Pierre's looks. He was searching for her in the crowds each and every time, in the hope to see her golden hair and her witty eyes.

They took so much time, making sure that the Chameleon was to be seen in the pictures, that they run late for practice, but in Pierre's eyes it was worth it. Each picture was bringing him closer to her seeing him looking for her and he also hoped it was bringing her closer to reaching out to him.

Later that day after nearly half of the garage made fun of him for writing 'Quasimodo heart' Pierre went to check his DMs. There were many girls, claiming to be her, but one look at their profiles told him that none of these girls was his Ella. His Cinderella.

It kept dimming his mood, so much that he decided to give up looking through the DMs for her that night only to switch to the reels. He watched some funny reels about kids, some F1-themed, a few travel diaries and a lot of pastry-make videos. He raised an eyebrow as he was shown a reel of someone building something with chocolate. Pierre liked these kinds of videos, so he keep watching despite the length of the video but as he realised the person was building a Chameleon, he locked his phone and threw it onto his bed.

He felt as if the universe wanted to point out to him what a fool he was as if wearing a stupid shirt would make her reach out to him. They didn't know each other at all, so why should she even still think about him and their dinner?

Just because she opened his eyes to the way he was living and wasting away? Because she was nice to him even though he was an arrogant and superficial but charming asshole. He felt ashamed about asking her to sleep with him. He should have asked for her name a long time ago, but he should have asked her for her phone number instead. Would she have dumbed him for the same reason she didn't come upstairs with him? Was she also wondering? Laying in bed at night awake, wondering how she can make him realise who she is, where she is?

Maybe she would be laying next to him right now if he would have paid more attention as she showed him her Instagram. Maybe he would have coughed her name or seen her profile picture long enough to know what he had to look for.

Sleep claimed him late that night. He was tossing and turning forever. Worried that he couldn't find her due to her not wanting to be found.