As Mr. Grant stood at the garage, one of the specialists noticed his stony gaze. He decided to approach the team's Team Principal out of respect. Dressed in a charcoal-grey fire suit, crisp enough to belong in a surgery ward, the crewman stepped away from the assembly toward Mr. Grant while pulling down his mask.
Mr. Grant could see his confidence. With his fire-retardant removed, he could also see his face. The man was good-looking, far above the average grease monkey. Maybe the others were just as appealing. They were all lean and swift.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Grant," said the Specialist with an Italian accent. "What a race. I've resumed the team's streams from both cars. Quite efficient, but there are opportunities to optimize pit response time. Even milliseconds can translate into tenths on track."
Mr. Grant raised an eyebrow, but didn't interrupt.
