Friday, November 16th, 2018- Milton Keynes, England, United Kingdom
Red Bull Racing Factory
"You're entirely correct about that, Max, this is just business, all of it is. Everything from our current working arrangement stipulating my contractually obligated role as your live in babysitter and oversight committee to this potential future arrangement is just professionally mandated," you explain, nodding your head along as you speak, the gesture repeated over and over again with the intent of being a physical reminder that he'd started this, he was responsible, and you, well, you were merely just in agreement with the point he'd felt it was necessary to make.
"Yeah, no, I see where you misunderstood what I was saying. Really, it's an easy mistake to make," while at one level Max is genuine in this sentiment, he doesn't prioritize ensuring that fact is immediately known, instead affording priority to other far less honorable matters like maintaining at least some modicum of his pride.
"Let me break it down into simple terms for you- so that this time you'll be able to understand,"' this line proves to be what it takes to have you quite openly contemplating causing his own untimely death, which probably shouldn't goad Max on like it does but that's a problem to be revisited at a later date, "you and me-"
"Horner, I am going to take this opportunity to reiterate the point that's already been made by this one here," you don't falter once, your voice never faltering and your words coming without respite, leaving Max with no option but to let the flow of conversation continue on unimpeded by any attempts on his part to cut in and say his piece.
"See, that's really not going to be necessary, I don't need, nor do I want to know the particulars of what the two of you-" Christian swiftly retorts, looking almost seasick at the very prospect of hearing any further details, no matter how innocent.
"Quite frankly, for the past few days I've been indirectly lied to and deliberately left outside of the know by every single other individual that has been made a party to the potential arrangement outlined here today– and I have reached my limit," you leave as little room for the team manager to make objections as you had for Max, which is an impressive feat considering the former's experience at interjecting himself back into a discussion.
"So, just for peace of mind moving forward, I would like to make it abundantly clear that absolutely nothing which would constitute unprofessional conduct has ever, will ever or is at present happening between Verstappen and myself."
"You know, Schatje," Max doesn't have the personal restraint or wherewithal to wait just long enough to think shit through, wholly focused as he is on his own morally corrupt motivations, with eyes on no one but you, he doesn't take so much as a single breath before deftly continuing, "you should really try telling that to the bed we share."
"Really? Right in front of me? Didn't I just get done saying-" Christian lets out a heavy, exasperated sigh, looking slightly pained at the turn in conversation, "I'm starting to think it might actually kill you to listen to anything either one of us says to you."
"Believe me when I tell you this, today is not the day and. I. Am. Not. The. One." There's just barely restrained outrage that simmers dangerously just below the surface of your preternatural calm, a kind of righteous fury that would have a smarter man than him stumbling headfirst into an apology, tripping over his own words in his panic.
But he'd always had a knack for stupidity when it came to you, there was just something about you, about the way you spoke to him with retribution in your voice, looking down your nose at him like he was the smallest, most inconsequential thing in the world, that had always just fried his brain, that had left him empty headed and without a single thought as to what he should do next.
