Leo watched the screen from inside his cockpit as he rolled through Turn 5 at sixty kilometers per hour. His helmet was still on. His hands were still on the wheel. The balaclava was wet against his face and the padding around his temples was carrying two hours of absorbed sweat and heat.
He watched the screen.
The dash in front of him was quiet. The engine at idle. The tyres rolling across the cool-down asphalt with the flat, used sound of rubber that had given everything it had.
The timing system processed.
The paddock waited.
In the Prema garage, Alessandro Rossi stood at the pit wall with his arms folded and his eyes on the screen above the main straight. His engineer stood beside him. Neither of them spoke.
