His grip is firm but friendly. "Heard you guys had an eventful off-season."
EJ shifts uncomfortably beside me, but Oliver's attention is already on him, warm and welcoming.
"First race weekend, right? How're you holding up?" Oliver asks, his Australian accent thicker here on home soil.
"I'm good. Just, uh, almost lost my pass," EJ admits with a sheepish smile.
Oliver laughs. "Mate, I still panic about that sometimes, and I've been doing this for twelve years. Don't sweat the small stuff."
The three of us fall into step together, walking down the paddock as team personnel and early-bird fans watch us pass. There's something surreal about walking alongside Oliver Lenox like we're equals, like my name deserves to be mentioned in the same sentence as his.
"This is a good track to start your F1 career. Technical but forgiving." Oliver glances at me. "Our friend here proved that last year."
"P5 was lucky." I shrug.
"Luck is preparation meeting opportunity," Oliver counters. "That drive was solid, safety car or not. Surprised a lot of people."
The compliment from a five-time world champion hits different. I try not to look too pleased, but I’m preening inside.
"Speaking of surprises," Oliver continues, "you planning to make a habit of those podiums? That Silverstone drive was something else."
"If the car cooperates," I say.
"It's not just the car." Oliver's tone turns serious. "You've got something, Foster. Raw speed. Reminds me of myself before team politics got in the way."
For a split second, his gaze is melancholic, as if recalling something painful, but then, he shifts to his trademark smile.
I almost trip over my own feet. Oliver Lenox comparing me to himself? I must be in an alternate reality.
"I'm not quite at your level yet," I manage.
"Yet," Oliver repeats, winking. "That's the keyword."
EJ watches our exchange with wide eyes. I forget sometimes how this looks from the outside—casual conversation with a living legend.
"What about you, EJ?" Oliver asks. "Goals for your rookie season?"
"Learn as much as possible," EJ answers automatically, then adds, "and beat my teammate at least once."
Oliver's laugh is genuine. "Better watch this one," he tells me, jerking a thumb at EJ. "Quick learner. Might be teaching you tricks soon."
F1 Drivers’ World Champions, yet the contrast between Oliver Lenox and James Farrant couldn't be more stark. Where Farrant wields his success like a weapon, using it to belittle and intimidate, making enemies wherever he goes with his "fuck you" attitude, Oliver wears his achievements lightly. There's a reason everyone in the paddock respects him, beyond his remarkable skill behind the wheel.
"Speaking of quick," Oliver continues, checking his watch, "I should let you get to your team. Just wanted to say hello and welcome the rookie properly."
We're approaching the Colton Racing motorhome now, its black and red exterior gleaming in the morning sun. Oliver stops, turning to EJ with a more serious expression.
"Bit of advice? This first season, don't focus on results. Focus on learning. Every lap, every session. Absorb everything. You’re on a good team, with a good teammate and an even better leader." He squeezes EJ's shoulder. "And ignore the bullshit from the media and couch commentators. Half of them have never sat in a race car, so they’re talking from their ass."
EJ nods, clearly committing every word to memory. "Thanks, Mr. Lenox. That means a lot."
"Crikey, it's Oliver. I’m not that old, Ethan! I’m literally the same age as your boss!" He grins, then turns to me. "As foryou, William"—his voice drops, just between us—"I'll be waiting when you're ready to mix it up front. Won't make it easy for you, though."
"Wouldn't want it any other way," I reply, meaning it completely.
With a final clap on my shoulder, and a nod to EJ, Oliver continues down the paddock, stopping occasionally to greet fans pressed against the barriers.
We enter the motorhome, greeted by the familiar faces of our crew. Tom stands by the coffee machine, his glasses slightly askew as always, his afro now neatly trimmed with a slight fade on the sides making him look both cool and smart as hell. Beside him is Maya Midorikawa—EJ's newly assigned engineer—her black hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, tablet already in hand.
