Sometime after WGPC Sprint Race
Cross the finish line. Miss out on points, swallow down the frustration as your race engineer informs you about the results. Get out of your car, smile to the cameras. Flirt with the media and tell them how you hope for a better tomorrow. That was Dom Falepeau in a nutshell. Unlike a number of other drivers on the grid, Dom had always gotten along with the media quite well. Sure, by no means did it mean the media wouldn't bash him or spread rumours about him from time to time. It was part of the life as a public figure that you simply had to accept. However, Dom had never experienced the stage fright that seemed to struck some of his fellow drivers every time the cameras went on and a microphone was put to their mouth. In fact, he found it low-key amusing to watch some of the drivers giving post-race interviews, watching sweat drops appearing on their forehead and imagining a bunch of cogs turning inside their brain as they were thinking how to respond to the tricky questions. Meanwhile, Dom usually just went with the flow, replied in his usual joking manner and tried to be as open as possible. No, that did not mean he would babble all about his car setups and team strategies to any reporter with a flashy fake smile. Dom was chatty, not stupid. He knew what he can say and what he cannot say, without having to constantly think about it.
Perhaps his chill and open nature was something given to him with his mother's milk. Dom's mother was also known as a very talkative and open woman, maybe her genes had carried over to him and that was the reason why Dom never found it particularly difficult to pick up a small talk with people and get to know them better in general. Whether it was his own team members, a fellow driver or even mechanics from other teams, when there was a chance to get to know someone better, he would step in and have a little chat with them. And he enjoyed doing it, he really did. He knew how some drivers preferred to disappear into their motorhomes after the race as quickly as possible to spend time alone. Dom, on the other hand, liked having other people around him. More often than not, he would leave the door to his room open so that he could hear the noises from the paddock and was welcoming anyone to step in at any time. Even on the race track, while it was just him driving the car, it was a good feeling to hear his race engineer talking via radio. It gave him comfort knowing that he wasn't really on his own and that he had someone behind his back.
Right now, he had just come from the smoking area, where he had a little discussion about the WGP2 season with some of Badai Angin team members. One of the mechanics had said he would bet a hundred bucks for Alvis Kalvin Lacsamana to win the championship. Dom had been quick to accept the bet and put his hundred on Ryden Solow instead. He liked a little bit of gambling, it added spice to the life. That didn't mean he would be an addict who would spend thousands in casinos though, but after the race, he would never say no to some beers and a couple rounds of cards. You need to have some hobbies besides racing after all, right?
Speaking of hobbies, once Dom finally made his way back to his motorhome, he was greeted by a large poster that had been delivered to his room. Curious to see what it was all about, Dom rolled it open and laid it out on a table. Having put his hands to his hips, he looked at it and saw... himself.

That did NOT seem like one of those Badai Angin promo posters he had assumed it to be. Scratching his head, Dom tried to think where that photo originated from. It took a good half a minute before he remembered... it was from that photoshoot he had taken a few weeks ago. It all had started a few seasons ago, when he had signed his personal sponsorship deal with Élégamment. Back then, the Britonish clothing brand had offered him an opportunity to have a photoshoot for them to promote their new collection. Eager to try out something new, Dom had accepted the deal back then and ever since, he had done modelling work for them from time to time. Élégamment had used his photos in their promotional campaigns and when there was someone who didn't keep track on racing, it was rest assured they would've still seen him on a billboard or a magazine somewhere. That particular photo here was going to be used to promote their line of sports clothing and what could possibly be better for the brand than having an actual athlete appear on their adverts? Dom liked doing these gigs from time to time. Posing for photographs gave him a way to express himself in another way and even though for some it might come off as being narcistic, at the end of the day it was a form of art.
Having smirked thinking what a topic for banter it would become for people on the paddock, Dom brought out his phone and took a photo of the poster. Well, he certainly knew one guy who would have something to say about this. Having scrolled through his contact list, he opened up a chat with Dario Nülkeschläger and sent him a message with the photo attached to it.
Dario Nülkeschläger
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Dom: Ay, dripmeister!
Dom: Can you triumph these abs?






























