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Summary
There's a distinct pink tinting Lando's cheeks now as he puts on a show of being dismissive. “You know who could be a Jack? Valtteri.”
“Valtteri?!!” Oscar’s going to have a stroke. He can see tomorrow's headlines: Formula 1 driver Oscar Piastri exasperated to death by teammate.
Lando pauses to suck at his straw, and says through his teeth, “Mmhmm, with that mustache and all.” His eyes lock on Oscar’s, something sly and impish glinting in them. “Or you know, Carlos, I think could probably pick—”
Oscar's had enough. He stands up and moves toward the bed in one motion, and before Lando finishes his sentence, he's got an arm around him, hauling him up over his shoulder.
OR
Lando claims the name Jack doesn't fit Oscar bcs Jack sounds like a guy who could throw you over his shoulder and rough you up and Oscar decides to take him up on it.