Who was he kidding? He was never going to get through the press of the crowd, even if he could drag his feet from where they seemed to have planted themselves in the floor. He knew how slim his chances were of ever getting to speak to the man outside of a race weekend, and yet Daithi still found himself as unable to look away as he was unable to move his feet.
He was lifting his champagne flute to his lips in a futile attempt to wet his suddenly dry mouth with the unsatisfyingly dry liquid when it happened. There was a momentary shift in the crowd, a parting of just a few seconds or less, and in that briefest of moments Dupont's eyes turned on the patch of wall where the rookie drivers - Daithi included - were lounging. Daithi's hand lifted almost of its own accord, raising the flute that much higher than the lips that had been his target, just as the sharp gaze of the reigning world champion slid across him. Just for a moment, he and the legendary driver he had idolised for so many years, met eyes.
Then, as suddenly as it had happened before, the crowd shifted again. The eye contact was cut off and the spell was broken. Daithi blinked, gulping down the last of the champagne in his flute as he struggled to control the hammering of his heart. Get a grip, he thought, almost angry with himself. One moment of accidental eye contact across a crowded party is nothing! You'd as soon have angels fly out of your arse as get face time with a legend like Dupont!
And yet… Daithi shook his head, trying to clear strange thoughts and temptations from his mind, and looked into his empty glass thoughtfully. It was such an alluring idea to just find another out of the way corner, another glass and just keep drinking. He was fairly certain he didn't want to know what sort of ideas the champagne might put into his head if he tried that.
"Delaney? Are you okay?" Saito asked quietly. Daithi managed to look up to meet the other driver's concerned expression after only a momentary pause. "You're looking a little flushed."
"I… yeah," Daithi muttered, mustering up a reassuring smile. "Whoever thought mixing alcohol and an adrenaline crash must've been off their rocker…" he trailed off, looking at the press of the crowd that was maybe, just maybe, beginning to spread out again. Maybe he had a chance. Maybe there was a way.
"Delaney?" Saito asked again.
"Here, hold this will you?" He handed his glass to a blatantly confused Ryou and took his first steps on a path that some part of his mind was already screaming at him was a terrible idea.
His heart was already in his mouth as he reached the back of the crowd and apologised his way past the first few people. The sweat under his collar was so much more than could be blamed on the heat of an Australian evening. He hoped he didn't look the way he felt, as he swallowed and tried to compose himself. It was far too late to back out now. The people he was pushing past had started to notice who it was doing the pushing.
Suddenly, as word spread, the crowd split and he had a clear path between himself and Dupont. A series of headlines flashed through his mind's eye as he noticed the sheer number of journalists who were scattered amongst those pressing around the champion, everything from the standard 'Rookie meets Champion at Australia' to the somewhat more anxiety-inducing 'Delaney embarrasses all after Melbourne race'.
He stopped in his tracks as Dupont met his eyes with an easy smile, but the other man did not. He was striding towards the Irishman before Daithi could blink, and long before he could think about taking a breath. That strong jaw and the piercing eyes that he had admired so often from a distance were now approaching him at speed and with the same determination and certainty that Dupont had when taking fast corners in a car. It was intimidating but no more intimidating than simply being in the presence of a hero.
"Daithi Delaney." Dupont enunciated his name clearly and competently, not butchering it as so many had before him. "Good to finally meet you away from the track." He extended a hand.
"Richard," Daithi praised whichever thoughtful deity had allowed him to get the other man's name out without stammering, "It's a pleasure to meet you." He shook the extended hand firmly, hoping his palms weren't sweating.
"Please, the pleasure is mine." Duponts eyes were locked on Daithi's as he pulled the Irishman close, free hand on his shoulder, "Do you realise you're blushing?" He murmured in his ear, Parisian accent clear and strong even so quietly.
Daithi's cheeks burned hot enough he was sure he could have cooked breakfast on them.
"It's good to see a group of competent rookie's coming into their own this season." He said, louder again now, as much for the press around them as it was for Daithi, "Maybe we'll see you in a silver arrow in a couple of years."
Of course he had dreamed of one day getting a drive in a Mercedes or a Ferrari. Pretty much every driver coming up through the lower Formula's held such a hope. He'd never thought he'd hear the suggestion from someone currently sitting in one of the two Mercedes cars, let alone from the man he'd followed from afar for so long.
"I've got an excellent drive at Sauber, but maybe silver is in my future," Daithi replied, couching his answer.as best he could.
"How very diplomatic a response." Dupont's comment drew a laugh from the crowd. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to have to go and find the rest of my team. I'm sure I'll see you soon."
Dupont let go of his hand - Daithi truly wished he hadn't - and set off in a direction that seemed random, but must have had some meaning. Just before he was swallowed up by the crowd, he looked over his shoulder and gave Daithi one last smile. It made the rookie drivers stomach flip and another wave of heat rush through him.
He'd done it. He'd somehow managed to meet and get through a conversation with Richard Dupont without embarrassing himself, even if the other man had noticed his blushing. He had to hold himself back from punching the air he was so happy. Very little could make the night better.
Daithi snagged a glass of champagne from a passing tray, thanked the server, and looked around the room.
Daithi will:
[ ] Head for the balcony to get some air.
[ ] Head for the door. It's time to go home (end of scene)
[ ] Write in.
