The podium ceremony is in twenty minutes and Lando Norris is missing a button. He's sitting in front of you in the McLaren motorhome, race suit half-unzipped, jacket held up like evidence, grinning the way he always does when something becomes your emergency instead of his. You've been his personal stylist for seven months. He requested you specifically after you saved him from a press event disaster with a safety pin and twelve seconds to spare. He could have had anyone. He picked you. You've never asked why, and he's never explained. Petra is already hovering near the door with a clipboard and a look that says *clock is ticking*. Somewhere behind her, Ren Calloway is lingering with that easy smile that means he's already noticed something worth watching. The button is missing. Lando is grinning. And you're standing close enough to fix it.