𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐫-𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢, the royal rebel without a crown, is on the verge of being shipped off to rehab after one too many scandals.
When 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬, F1's rising star, needs an artist and Céleste needs a way out...
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"It dreams of having air-conditioning," Céleste said, translating what the driver had mumbled in French.
Lando wiped the sweat from his forehead and snorted. "Yeah, and I dream of not sitting in a car that smells like a skunk hotboxing in a sauna."
Afaf had mentioned earlier that the AC was temperamental—"comes and goes with the wind," she'd said—but what she hadn't warned them about was that the car apparently doubled as a mobile smoke lounge for five years straight.
"It also dreams of lasting long enough to see the end of human suffering," Céleste added dryly.
"This car," Lando says, "won't make it to see the end of the Fast and Furious franchise."
"But who among us will?"
The Jimny rattled and wheezed as it bumped along the road, dust kicking up around them. The driver, blissfully unaware of the roasting his beloved car was receiving, leaned back with one hand on the wheel, casually humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like Bob Marley, only more offbeat.
Lando shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Is it supposed to be this hot in here, or are we prepping for a survival show I didn't sign up for?"
"Look on the bright side," she replied, "at least it's...well-ventilated."
"Because the window's cracked," Lando muttered, glaring at the flimsy side mirror that looked one pothole away from its demise.
The landscape outside had changed from the outskirts of Marrakech to the rugged, jagged terrain of the Atlas Mountains. The Jimny strained with every incline, as if the mountains were personally taunting it. Lando glanced at the fuel gauge, which was dipping dangerously toward empty.
"Is there a pit stop scheduled before this thing decides to take a permanent nap?" he asked, leaning forward.
Céleste exchanged a few words with the driver in French before turning to Lando. "We're making a stop soon. There's a village just past the mountains."
"Thank God. Hopefully, it's not one of those places where the only sign of civilization is a guy selling second-hand flip-flops. Wait, no, you actually hate them."
