Monday, November 19th, 2018- Monte Carlo, Monaco
Daniel's Apartment
"Everyone gets to pick the main activity for one day, alright? So, take a moment, think it over, brainstorm— I don't care, just think of something and be ready when I call on you. Got it?"
"Got it, Da!" Kaia responds back brightly, though Max isn't entirely convinced she has any real idea what she's agreeing to, she's got the right attitude about it, so he lets her have this, opting to leave her to her own devices.
He has little interest in making her second guess herself when, at the end of the day, he'd rather his daughter have confidence that's slightly misplaced than none at all. And honestly, he's just so grateful that his daughter is happy and smiling and brimming with energy again that he hardly knows what to do with himself.
So no, he won't be calling into question the toddler's comprehension levels or what she chooses to add to the conversation being had over breakfast.
Similarly, Max absolutely will not be commenting on what she's chosen to eat this morning because at least she was finally eating something– even if that something happened to be a stack of powder sugar dusted waffles that he knows and has already accepted that Kaia will end up wearing more of than she manages to actually eat.
He bites his tongue when, unsurprisingly, she points one chubby little finger at the bottle of maple syrup held in Daniel's hand then down at her plate, only to clap her hands together delightedly when her uncle does as he was silently asked, pouring an obscene amount of the sugary liquid over the waffles.
"Your wish is my command," Daniel says with a dramatic flourish of his hand, sketching a quick mock bow in his direction, much to Kaia's delight, before being forced to abandon the gesture when Max whips a pillow full force at his face from across the room.
"Alright, alright! Jesus, watch the nose, that's my money maker you know! Break it and I break your... well I don't know, if I figure out how to break your bad attitude or your death wish like you just tried to break my beautiful face, I'll let you know but until then, maybe consider putting some of your considerable wealth into getting hotter? At least then we could be on equal footing."
"Daniel?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up before I change my mind and revoke your right to have any input... ever... on anything."
"Bite me," the Australian says with a long suffering sigh, "but fine, I'll play nice. For now, at least."
"Thank you. Now was that so hard?"
"Has anyone ever told you that you can be a real bastard when you want to be, Verstappen?"
"It has been said a time or two," Max finally acknowledges with a slow, solemn nod of his head, his gaze remaining slightly upturned in a continued show of racking his memory for any instances in which similar remarks had been made in the past, "though rarely, if ever, to my face."
"Oh okay, so now we're just blatantly rewriting history over breakfast? Good to know," Daniel huffs out a breath, rolling his eyes at his teammate, "holding true to character, aren't we?"
"Are you quite finished?" He inquires in a cool, casual disinterested tone of voice, refusing outright to let the new, icy cold edge of genuine annoyance that cuts the flow of the other man's words like a frigid undercurrent, get a rise out of him.
Instead, awaiting reply he can feel the beginning of as it builds to a fever's pitch in his friend, already simmering just below the surface, Max reaches for Kaia's plate and pulls it closer to himself, busying himself with cutting her waffles into more manageable, bite sized pieces. He has little choice but to turn a deaf ear to her protestations, the little girl stalwart in her insistence that she can do it herself, but which he knows she absolutely cannot.
