Hunter rubbed his nose: "I seem to be a little too low-key?"

When he walked up the steps, he happened to meet Donald, a famous Sauber racer.

This guy won third place in the last stop. It was the time when he was in high spirits. Even the beauty he hugged was a beauty. The two stood at the door and kissed each other stickyly, and Donald slowly handed out the key.

The waiter was about to pick up the key, but Donald threw it in Hunter's direction.

Hunter leaned back with his pocket in his arms, and the key fell right in front of his toes.

"Hey!" Donald looked at Hunter with his eyebrows, and the subtext was "Why can't you even get the car keys?"

Hunter still looked at him with his pocket in his arms, then slowly took out the invitation and handed it to the security guard at the door.

At this time, the waiter quickly said sorry to Hunter while picking up the car keys.

Hunter looked at himself and then at the waiters, although they were all wearing suits... he wasn't going to be similar to them, right?

"It's temperament."

Teammate...ah, it should be said that the enemy McGrady walked past him and laughed sarcastically.

Hunter touched the back of his head, puzzled his mind. What is the similarity between his temperament and the waiter?

There were many well-known media people at the dinner. Team managers and well-known drivers all became the centers surrounded, of course... not including him, an idle person.

Fortunately, the dim sum at the dinner tasted good.

Hunter enjoys this kind of time when he is not disturbed, not noticed, and eats whatever he wants.

Even if you rub the cream on your face, you don’t need to be busy dealing with journalists and colleagues like those well-known drivers... Life is short, why spend your enjoyment time on social engagements?

After eating a snack, Hunter walked to the other side with satisfaction. At this time, a waiter handed the tray to him: "I'm sorry, the foreman told me that I have something to do, please give me a try! Thank you!"

Hunter opened his eyes wide and looked at the other person's leaving figure, then looked at the tray in his hand.

By chance, McGrady also saw this scene and placed the empty wine glass in her hand on Hunter's tray.

"Please trouble you, waiter."

After saying that, he pressed a US dollar tip on it.

Hunter narrowed his eyes. It seemed that McGrady was still holding a grudge against Duchoni because he failed to stop Duchoni in the last game!

Wait, maybe not because of the competition, but because of the grenade in the bathroom?

Thinking of this, Hunter smiled and took the US dollar down, put it in his pocket, squinted at McGrady, and said to him with his mouth: Thank you.

McGrady indeed showed an expression that she wanted to get angry but had to hold back.

Hunter suddenly felt relieved.

At this moment, because of the arrival of someone, the person at the dinner seemed to be traction and looked in a certain direction.

Hunter also raised his eyes, the manager of the Ferrari team, and Fann Winston, who was clearly walking behind him but couldn't hide his presence.

Today, he is wearing a black dress with almost no style at all, but the simpler the style is, the smoother the lines of his waist and shoulders are outlined, which implies the male strength.

And those long legs, every step they take makes the gaze feel enjoyable.

Who is the center of this charity dinner is self-evident.

At that time, he will change a pair in every competition!

In the end, the "Great White Jaw" Shire's gloves were sold for $20,000.

Hunter couldn't help but sigh: F1 is indeed the most expensive sports event in the world, no doubt about it.

"The second auction item below - the T-shirt that Ferrari's Van Winston once wore during the race!"

A burst of excitement sounded beside Hunter.

"The starting price is also $5,000!"

Before the host's introduction was finished, the bidding couldn't wait to start.

"Six thousand dollars!"

"Seven thousand!"

"Eight thousand!"

...

Hunter nodded while listening to the bidding sounds beside him, with a puzzled expression on his face.

Just a white T-shirt, why did Winston have such a space of value after it was worn by this?

In the end, the price soared to 50,000 US dollars.

Hunter felt that the lemon pie was choking and he had to find some water to drink.

As soon as I turned around, I saw a young girl with tears in her eyes, and her father was comforting her.

"Don't be sad, my dear. I'm very familiar with the strategist at Ferrari. When the banquet is over, I'll ask him to help ask Winston for another T-shirt, okay?"

But the girl still couldn't stop crying.

To be honest, Hunter is a little suspicious. Among these female fans who bid, how many of them really understand F1?

"Dear, can you believe me?" The father wanted to wipe his daughter's tears, but his daughter turned her head away.

Hunter felt a little sympathetic to him, so he tidied up his neckline and came to the girl.

"Hey, do you like Vanne Winston very much?"

"..." The girl was surprised by Hunter's appearance, but nodded, "Yes."

"Then do you know that after an F1 race, the physical energy consumption of racers is comparable to that of marathons?"

The girl nodded, but still didn't understand why Hunter suddenly said this.

"So, in one race, the driver can lose about three liters of moisture. This moisture is absorbed by the white T-shirt... It is a veritable sweatshirt, and I guess it exudes a strong body odor of Winston... I don't know if it will be pungent?" Hunter shrugged and continued to look at the girl.

"You... are you sick?" The girl turned around and left.

Hunter touched his nose and whispered to himself: "Am I sick? It's better than some people who spend 50,000 US dollars to buy men's sweatshirts."

"I don't have any physical sensibility. I wonder if you will be disappointed."

Just as the cold sound of the silver cup gently hitting in an empty room sounded behind him, Hunter's back stiffened. Even if he had only heard the other person say a few words, he could still tell that it was Winston's voice.

When did he...he came?
Chapter completed!