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↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-
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As they walked in the dusky glow back to their hotel near the racetrack, Rosetta felt the weight of her cousins' bewildered yet insistent glances. Luca and Elena's eyes were a constant flicker of unvoiced questions, the weight of their curiosity hung in the air, tangible as the quiet whispers of mechanics working on the last details.
"What?" the Italian finally acknowledged their stare, her eyebrows forming curves of amusement across her forehead.
"Are you kidding me?" Elena raised her hands dramatically.
"It seemed to have escaped your thoughts that you know the Bearmans, somehow," Luca finished the question for his twin sister.
In the waning light of eventide, Rosetta caught a glimpse of her father's amusement as she clutched onto his muscular arm. His warm, dark eyes twinkled like stars on a moonlit night while a subtle curve played on his lips, softening his sturdy countenance. The fading sunlight touched his fluffy brown hair, making it glow while the early evening breeze ruffled his tresses.
He turned at her, bushy eyebrows raised in interest.
"You do?" her papà nosily asked.
"I might." She shrugged, bottom lip puckering to form a smile-induced pout. "What's the story with Ollie?"
Luca's face whipped back towards her instantly, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Wait, you don't know?!" he exclaimed.
"I knew that he was a racing driver. I didn't know he competed in F2, I just learned that today."
Rosetta watched her cousins' faces the identical twins looked at each other in disbelief. She found it droll how their blue eyes widened, their mouths dropping while their brows furrowing in a similar manner.
"He's the first guy, I think, to win both German and Italian F4 in the same year. He's gifted," her father started with the actual answer she was seeking, "almost won F3 in his first year, only lost the championship in the last race here. And he's now doing impressively as a rookie in F2. It's safe to say that Ollie Bearman is one of if not the top junior drivers right now, definitely a champion material."
The corner of her mouth curved up slightly, forming a frivolous smirk that she directed at him.
"You said the same thing about Charles Leclerc," she teased, and her father's offended expression was a masterpiece of mock outrage, his brows knitting into an exaggerated frown that creased his forehead dramatically.
"Eh, Paperotta, look, they have the talent of a champion," he defended his opinion, "the car? I think not. Especially if Ferrari keep doing shit like now."
