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“Hello!” says Charles almost as soon as the video starts. He’s standing next to Max, who looks irritated and tired. “Max, say hi.”
“Hi," repeats Max, vaguely smiling and waving at the camera. Charles grins at him, nudging him lightly, before turning back to face the camera.
“We’re here on the Miami Boardwalk,” Charles starts, “before the first ever Miami Grand Prix! It’s Wednesday today, but we are here a few days early because of timezones.”
Max nods solemnly before adding, “and this promotion video.”
“You may be asking,” narrates Charles, starting to walk away from the camera. He seems to realize Max isn’t following him, and goes back to grab the older driver’s hand to drag him along. He doesn’t drop Max’s hand, but continues to walk and talk instead.
“You may be asking,” repeats Charles, in step with Max now, “why are we doing a video together? The truth is that Red Bull has realized I am simply the best driver at promo, and so they’ve asked me to teach Max my ways.”
“That is not true,” retorts Max, rolling his eyes at Charles. The pair is still walking, the camera following them. “They just decided to pair us up to build up more hype for the race.”
“Nothing you just said contradicts what I said. Just admit it.”
“No,” said Max, turning back to the camera again. “We’re going on a tour of Miami today, although I don’t really know what we’re going to see. There’s not much here but beaches and drugs.”
“It will be fun!” grins Charles. “We will see you at the first stop.”
“What on earth is that?”
Max and Charles are staring at Coral Castle in all its ugly limestone glory. Charles is holding a brochure which looks to be a guide to the so-called castle.
“Coral Castle,” responds Charles, eyes glued to the brochure. “It says here that it was built by one guy.”
“That is not coral.”
“Obviously. It’s limestone.”
“Obviously,” repeats Max, snorting. “Are you an expert on geology now?”
“Yes,” replies Charles gravely. “It is because I rock.”
“That was awful,” laughs Max. “But come on, David Attenborough, tell me about the castle.”
“Well,” starts Charles, putting on a scholarly voice. “He supposedly spent 28 years building it all himself with homemade tools, but I don’t buy it.”
“There’s no way,” agrees Max. “Surely someone helped him?”
“It says he did it alone,” sighs Charles, looking around at the ridiculous amount of limestone rocking chairs. “The neighbors started rumors though, saying it was magic or reverse magnets.”
“Huh?”
“Like uh,” Charles says, looking down at the brochure again to read it. “Reverse magnetism?” he adds, waving his hands around like that would explain it.
“So like you and Monaco?”
“Rude,” snaps Charles halfheartedly, still looking at the brochure. “Uncalled for.”
“A little true though,” says Max, throwing his arm around Charles’s shoulder and leaning in so he can see the brochure.
“A little true,” agrees Charles, still reading. “I have no idea what any of this means, so I am going to say aliens built this.”
“Definitely aliens," Max replies. “Does that say there’s a telescope?”
“Yeah. You know, I thought racing was the best career and hobby, but I think you could make a case for whatever the hell this place is.”
“I’d rather not,” Max disagrees. “It's so ugly.”
“Well, it is America,” Charles snickers. “Can we leave now?” he adds, turning to look at the camera. He seems pleased with the response he gets. “Good, I’m hungry!”
“We are here now at some restaurant that has a Wikipedia page.”
“That’s probably why we are here,” acknowledges Charles, staring at his plate. “I don’t know why a Cuban restaurant is named Versailles.”
“The food is good though,” Max counters, already halfway through his paella.
Charles sighs at that, picking up his fork to eat the fish he ordered. “But Cuba does not speak French, Max. They speak Spanish.”
“Why do you care? You’re not French.”
“This is true,” agrees Charles. “But it is the principle. Although this is really good,” he adds.
They sit in silence for a minute as they eat, the sounds of the other restaurant patrons audible in the background.
“Do you know any Spanish?” asks Max after a moment.
“Only the swears Carlos has taught me,” responds Charles as he finishes his fish.
“Same,” Max sighs.
“Five languages between us, and none of them are Spanish. Disappointing.”
“For Carlos, maybe,” smirks Max.
The two stare at each other then, having what appears to be a conversation with their eyes alone. It goes on, before Charles randomly bursts out laughing so hard he starts to cry. Max rolls his eyes, snorting at the younger driver, and turning to face the camera.
“Where to next?”
“Oh no, no, no. Absolutely not. I am not going in that.”
“It won’t be that bad, come on,” Max says, reassuring a worryingly pale Charles.
“No, no, no,” repeats Charles, eyes stuck on the observation wheel in front of him. They’re at Bayside Marketplace now, recognizable by the crowds of tourists, the shops, and the street performers.
“I will carry you,” threatens Max. “The entire world will see me carry your heavy ass onto this wheel.”
“I am much lighter than the team you already carry on your back.”
"Right back at you,” laughs Max, surreptitiously nudging Charles towards the front of the queue.
“I am not going on it,” reiterates Charles as they get closer to the observation wheel gondola. “It is too high.”
“You fly across the world multiple times a year,” Max states, staring at Charles in amusement and disbelief.
“Yes, but that is not the same!”
“You drive a car at 300 kilometers per hour for a living, Charles.”
“Yes, and you know I am afraid of heights! What if it breaks down and we die?”
“Then we die together, I guess,” says Max intensely, like one might make an oath, as he lightly shoves Charles in the gondola.
“No, no, no,” Charles repeats, breathing coming heavier now as the observation wheel starts to move. He grabs Max’s hand, holding it in a death grip. "Max, please, I don’t want to do this,” he adds, quieter now, the microphone barely picking up on it.
“It’ll be quick, Charlie,” whispers Max, so low it’s hard to hear. “I’ll distract you, just look at me yeah? Don’t look out the window.”
Charles nods at that, staring at Max unblinking.
“So,” Max asks at a normal volume now. “What do you know about Miami? Other than the track.”
“Do we know the track?”
“Not yet, I think we’re going on a walk later.”
“Oh, cool,” replies Charles hesitantly, still gazing at Max. The Dutch driver smiles encouragingly at Charles, who takes a deep breath and smiles back softly. “I don’t know, not much. I think they film Real Housewives here?”
“Do they? I thought that was in LA.”
“That is another one, there are a bunch.”
“Which one is your favorite?” asks Max, clearly still trying to distract Charles.
“I do not watch it,” responds Charles like it’s obvious. “Pierre does, he likes the one in Atlanta.”
“Where is that?”
“I do not know,” Charles replies. His hand is still holding Max’s tightly, but it’s a little looser now. “I think Jeffrey Epstein lived in Miami, no?”
“No,” disagrees Max almost immediately. “He lived in Palm Beach.”
“How do you know that?”
“Charles, we literally watched the documentary together in lockdown.”
“Oh right,” Charles replies, giggling a little. “Oops. I know Miami is the spring break location. Does that count?”
“Obviously,” snorts Max. “Any hot spring break gossip?”
“No, unfortunately I am employed.”
Max laughs loudly at that, gazing at Charles with clear fondness in his eyes. “Too busy for spring break then?”
“Well, I would not go on spring break here. This is where someone got their face eaten off.”
“Sorry, what ?”
“Yes! It was in the news, even in Monaco. We were young, 14 maybe? A man was high on bath salts, and knocked a man unconscious. Then ate his face.”
“You’re kidding right?”
“No, I am not! You can look it up. The victim lived, he is blind now because his eyes were eaten.”
“Why do you know this?”
“It was in the news!” Charles insists. “I am sorry you do not stay up to date on current affairs.”
“You just said we were 14 when it happened.”
“I am sorry you did not stay up to date on current affairs when we were 14.”
“You are unreal,” retorts Max as the gondola returns to the ground. He looks over at Charles, visibly grinning at the surprise on the Monégasque’s face at the observation wheel ride already being over. “Should I be worried that you remember that?”
“Yes,” replies Charles as he shoves his way out of the gondola, dragging Max along with him by the hand. “Watch your back, Verstappen.”
“This is super cool,” Max says, looking around at the immense amount of street art surrounding the pair. They’re at Wynwood Walls now, surrounded by thousands of pieces of artwork painted onto the sides of buildings. “Daniel would love it.”
“It is alright,” agrees Charles, stopping randomly to look at a painting of a bee. “But why are we looking at walls?”
“I guess you’re more familiar with looking at walls from the cockpit of your car,” retorts Max, pushing Charles along to keep him from getting run over by a school group.
“At least when I crash into a wall in Q3, I get pole position,” snaps Charles, smiling cheekily at Max.
“Low blow, Leclerc,” Max replies, grinning back. “I still won the championship though.”
“Yes, hopefully your only one. I have too many empty shelves at home.”
“You can fill those with second place trophies.”
“No, those are too short. They will leave too much negative space,” responds Charles halfheartedly, distracted by yet another painting on the wall, this time of a ferret. “This looks a bit like Esteban, no?” he asks, turning to look at Max.
“The frog a few paintings back looked like Carlos,” Max says in lieu of a response.
“I saw that!” replies Charles, excitedly starting to walk again. “I am trying to find people I know in the animals now."
“Did you see the goat when we first arrived?”
“Yes! I took a picture to send to Sebastian.”
“Genius,” grins Max. “Look at that fish,” he adds, pointing at a clownfish painted on the wall. “He looks like Lando.”
“The shark behind it is definitely George,” agrees Charles. “Although I believe this is a scene from Finding Nemo.”
“A good movie though,” Max says. The two continue to walk for a few minutes, stopping occasionally to look at paintings.
“This looks like you,” yells Charles suddenly, gesturing for Max to join him in front of a painting of a cat.
“A cat? Seriously?” Max laments.
“He is so grumpy! He looks just like you,” insists Charles.
“I’m a lion, Charlie, not a house cat.”
“You are a house cat,” Charles disagrees. “But you are one of the house cats that always try to go outside even though you should not.”
"If I’m a house cat, you’re a dog,” counters Max.
“Alright,” affirms Charles. “What kind?”
“You know those golden retrievers with the propeller hats?”
“I love golden retrievers!” cheers Charles. “Am I one?”
“Yes, Charles,” Max proclaims solemnly. “You are a golden retriever.”
“Thank you!” grins Charles, hugging Max suddenly. The Dutch driver immediately returns it, and the two drivers continue to hug as they laugh to themselves, oblivious to the camera and the crowds around them. Eventually they part and continue to walk, approaching the end.
“That was fun,” Max remarks as the pair near the exit.
“Did you see the sun bear on the wall?” asks Charles.
“Yeah, it looked like Alex,” grins Max, nudging Charles’s shoulder with his own as they approach the car that is taking them to the next destination. “Formula 1 really is a zoo.”
"Not a good zoo, though. Good zoos have penguins.”
“It is time for our last stop!” announces Charles. “Can I get a drumroll?”
“They can see the track, Charles. You’re standing on it.”
“Can I get a drumroll?” Charles repeats, glaring at Max.
“Fine,” sighs Max, tapping his legs in something resembling a beat.
“Our last stop is the track! I do not know its name, but we are here.”
“It’s the Miami International Autodrome,” interjects Max towards the camera. The two are starting to walk now, with the camera following as they make their first ever lap of the track.
“What an interesting name,” contemplates Charles. “It is not very international, is it? Since we are still in one country.”
“What would you have named it then?”
Charles contemplates for a moment in silence. “Miami Mania. Much more fun, and this track is crazy.”
“It is, yeah. It looks like someone tried to draw Interlagos from memory but failed.”
“You are very good in Brazil,” compliments Charles. “Hopefully that means you will not be here.”
“Scared of losing, Leclerc?”
“Hardly,” scoffs Charles. "I told you I need more tall trophies for our shelves, they are asymmetrical.”
“Australia and Bahrain helped that,” Max replies.
“I could always use some more. Last season was your trip to Ikea for first place trophies, this season will be mine.”
“We’ll see about that,” challenges Max, turning to grin at Charles. The Monégasque driver, however, is no longer behind him, instead stopping and staring in horror at some boats.
“What did they do ?” Charles squawks, eyes wide and disgusted.
“What?”
“They said there would be a harbor, is that it?” Charles adds, turning to look at Max. “Please tell me that is not it!”
“Um….I mean there are boats? And water? So it’s a harbor? Not as big or, well, as natural as the Monaco one, but it’s a harbor.”
“That is not a harbor, Max! That is a kiddie pool!”
“A very big kiddie pool,” answers Max bravely.
“Max!” Charles yells, clearly offended.
“Well, everything is bigger in Texas.”
“We are in Florida!” retorts Charles before storming away.
“Can we go?” Max asks, turning to look at the camera. “I need to go get him.”
Max stands alone, staring at the person behind the camera and waiting for a response. Charles can be seen in the background, slowly disappearing into the distance. After a moment, Max nods, smiling briefly.
“Sorry this promo was a disaster,” Max concludes, “but hopefully the race weekend will be better. Thanks for the tour, Miami! I’m going to go get Charles now,” he adds, grinning at the camera and waving before walking away.