[20th lap]
[Corner Chopping +1]
[SYNC BAR: [][][][] 50%]
[You have successfully defended your position. Keep it up, host]
[Analyzing Dallara (F2 04) and host's distance from 5th Position]
[You are 1 second away, host.]
"Daniel... fucking... Walding," Luca whispered playfully like a venom as he began the 20th lap. "Here I come. And you won't pass me again."
**Your status?**
Luca blinked. It wasn't Moritz this time, as Ansel's distinct voice broke through the radio. "P6," Luca replied calmly. "You?"
"P4," came Ansel's blunt response.
Luca knew which position Ansel was in, but he wanted to ask because Ansel had asked about it, and mostly because Luca wanted to catch the tone in Ansel's voice and discern his current mood.
It wasn't good for sure.
Intertwining between P3 and P4 with Miles Bellingham, time had brought Luca and Walding closer to Ansel as Miles edged farther, half a lap ahead.
