⌞ always the angel, never a god ⌝

⌞ thirteen : practice ⌝

"I'm here.. I-I'm here." 

___

I hummed along to the music playing from my speakers. It was practice day. There was no reason for us to go to the track but Jules invited all four of us and there was no way we would turn that down. But that also meant we couldn't exactly dress up. I was trying to decide between my normal outfit of my racer jacket with some cargo pants and a cropped t-shirt or whatever Dior blouse and a pleated skirt. 

There was a knock on the door and I turned down my music. "Oui?" 

Charlie opened the door and he walked in, doing a little turn. I snorted as I moved so I could see his outfit a little better. It was a pair of jeans and a nice red polo. His hair was done, curls hugging close to his ears. 

"Looks good to me." 

"Merci." He moved to sit down on the bed. "What are you wearing?" 

I sighed, pointing to the options I had laid on the floor. Charlie tilted his head as he looked at the outfits. It was a small thing. You would have missed it if you weren't looking for it. I stood there, messing with a rogue curl while he took his sweet time to pick an outfit. 

"Go with the casual one. You want to make a statement with that dress, oui?" 

I nodded.

"Then let them believe other things." 

It was my turn to tilt my head. Charlie chuckled at me. "Lead them to believe something else. And when the time comes, you prove them all wrong." 

I nodded. "You have good ideas every once in a while." 

He grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at me. I gasped as I caught it, throwing it back at him. "Get out so I can change, loser." 

"Uh-huh. I'll see you out there." 

I shook my head as I watched him leave. The door closed and I picked the clothes off the floor, making sure to hang up the outfit I wasn't going to wear before getting ready. But as I did, I kept what Charlie said. Surprisingly, he was right. It was good advice. I figured it would be something I took with me. 

___

I sat next to Lore, tapping out a rhythm with my fingers on my knees. Call it a nervous tick. Which, to me, was crazy. I had been to the Monaco GP so many times that I could walk it with my eyes closed. But I still sat here, tapping out some forgotten melody and trying not to let my mind run. 

A hand stopped mine and I looked up to see Lore. "Breathe." 

"I am breathing." 

He snorted. "You know what I meant, smartass." 

I tried to snort but it came out sad. Lore looked at me with an, I told you so, kinda look and I rolled my eyes. But I did focus my breathing. It helped to watch the game of sticks that Arty and Charlie were playing, and Lore helped by drawing little things on the palm of my hand he had grabbed.

After a bit, my breathing became even and Lore squeezed my hand. "There you go, kid." 

"Merci."