razorblade | sebastian vettel ✓

chapter 4 | lights out and away we go

«You're in the DNA between the molecules. You're in the beside place and all else I look. You're in the subtext and all the overtones. You're in the telly sales that dominate my phone.»

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The last time Cassandra had watched an official sporting event, England got trashed by Germany in a World Cup. It was 2010 and Abigail dragged her to a pub so they could watch the match because 'it would be fun'. Nothing about being in a crowded pub with a bunch of sad English people had been fun that day. If she tried hard enough, she could still remember the exact moment when everybody inside that pub got their hearts broken as one of the German players netted the fourth goal. Not her though, she couldn't care less about England getting kicked out of anything, but she did enjoy the free pints she'd gotten that day from random men who thought they would take her home after the match.

That was her last memory of watching a sporting event. Now unironically she was about to watch a totally different sporting event, but with a certain German in it. Ah yes, those relationships between Germany and England. Complicated ones.

"Sebastian has pole position," Abigail announced as she sat down next to her on the sofa, being careful enough not to make a mess with the bowl full of chips in her hands. Cassandra looked at her with big eyes. Had all of them — and by all she meant only Abigail and Gareth — watched the whole race weekend except for her?

Someone wasn't putting as much effort into her homework apparently.

Gareth, who sat on her other side, nudged her ribcage with his elbow, prompting her attention to turn to him. "That means he's—"

"I know what that means," Cassandra interrupted him and rolled her eyes. Gareth smiled, looking quite proud if one could say. "I've been watching videos about this thing for days. I feel sick." She stuck her tongue out, pretending to gag. Really, the amount of information she had absorbed about Formula 1 was a bit sickening. Like studying for a math test a day before.

Just as promised — not really promised though, more like...whatever — she was ready to watch a Formula 1 race, and according to Cassandra, someone should applaud her for that. Gareth had suggested watching the whole thing, practices, qualifying and all that jazz, but with a very pointed 'I'm not a nerd' they had concluded that the main race would be enough for Cassandra to properly understand what was all the buzz about Formula 1.

And Sebastian Vettel...and his teammate, right. Of course. There were two.

"Where is Mark?" Cassandra gestured at the screen due to the lack of sight of another Red Bull car whilst the cameraman filmed the cars on the front of the grid — she knew that much now.

"Tough quali for Webber, I think he's nineteenth for this race," Gareth explained. "Although I don't think Seb is that upset about that." His lips tugged into a smile.

Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean? They are teammates." Cassandra said as if it was obvious. There had to be some sense of fellowship or group work. Something like that.

"There are some things the internet doesn't teach you, I see." He rubbed his chin and then proceeded to continue his explanation. "Even though they compete in teams, they also compete for an individual prize, so technically your teammate is also your competition." Individualism...of course. "And those two have a very peculiar relationship as teammates." Gareth made a weird noise between a snort and a full chuckle. "I mean, I love Seb, I think he's great, but I'm sure his teammate isn't very fond of him."

Drama, how cute. She couldn't say she didn't understand. Nothing more lovely than trying to create healthy relationships with coworkers, Cassandra was an expert on that topic.