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Summary
Oscar blinked, adjusting his transparent, rounded glasses on his face. The man who had emerged looked like the very definition of a tornado of energy. He had incredibly curly and messy brown hair, expressive green eyes that shone with curiosity, and a wide smile that seemed permanent. He was wearing a black t-shirt, revealing arms almost completely covered by fine-line, flawless tattoos.
"Uh, hi. I have an appointment. Oscar Piastri," Oscar said, his voice coming out in his usual calm, monocordic tone, even though his hands were freezing inside his coat pockets.
The man's eyes widened in recognition.
"Ah, the Mario Kart guy!" He laughed out loud, a contagious sound that made Oscar flinch slightly. "Logan explained the situation to me via text. Nice to meet you, I'm Lando. I'm the owner of the studio and your executioner for the next three sessions."
•••
A lost bet in Mario Kart should have only cost Oscar Piastri a few hours of pain and a permanent design on his back... but he ended up giving away much more than just his own skin.