[b][center][h2]Joel Nicolosi[/h2][/center][/b]

Joel accepted the woman’s flashy European greeting with a light smile and took the leatherbound documents giving them a brief glance before tucking the whole kit under arm. The binder was substantially lighter since there would be no transfer of ownership and what was waiting underneath the cover would never see a public highway. It was Max’ toy and though he was present at delivery, Joel would still technically be the consignee and likewise wanted to make sure everything was in order before he signed his name as accepting the shipment. It was just good business. He gave Marlin a wink as he approached Max and exchanged a firm handshake with the elder Englishman. “Good to see ya again, sir.” He said. Joel’s grip was like an iron vice, but so was Max’ with the sort of aged power that would never fade as long as he could still get around. It’d been a few months since the Grand Prix and Joel was genuinely glad to see he was still on his feet. Unlike the rest of Marlin’s family, Max had a level head and was as down to Earth as anyone he’d ever met. Joel rested his hand on his hip and turned back towards the GTR. “I made a little side bet with our Japanese competitors back before the race, this was what they owed me if we won.” He said slyly. 

The coffee was passed out, still easily steaming from the open lids in the cold. Joel accepted the cup even though he had just had one back at the Lighthouse mostly out of courtesy. He stepped around the side of the car looking for the cover tie when he caught wind of a familiar scent coming from the cup in his hand...[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4620730][i]burnt antifreeze[/i][/url]. He visibly winced at the smell and looked over at Marlin. “I think this one’s yours, [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4587243]chicky[/url].” He said exchanging cups with her and keeping an even glance. She was considerably disarmed being without her work entourage and not feeling the need to indulge her extreme competition anxiety. He turned and stooped down to untie the cover. “No Le Mans yet,” He said working the knot in his hands as he spoke. There wasn’t as much need for sentiment as when he’d taken delivery of his car. The project beneath the cover was business and he fully intended to cash in on the “completion bonus”. The thick cord unravelled and the cover began to fall away as the line retracted. “This one is going to be a little bit closer to home for you.”

The cover slid away smoothly from the wide rear spoiler and flowed over the driver’s side as it fell away over the hood. So clean was the paint, there was a light static charge in the air as it moved over the body panels and slid down to the floor. Joel stood back up and crossed his arms, running one finger back and forth across his lips discerningly at the [url=https://pursuitist.com/aston-martin-v12-vantage-gt3-race-car/] car in front of him[/url]. 

[url=https://s3.amazonaws.com/gt7sp-prod/livery/97/04/50/8358756775468500497_23.jpg]Battleship gray[/url] with blue trim around the grill and the signature Aston Martin neon green along the mirrors, air dams and dive planes, the body was devoid of any markings save for the large lettering on the spoiler and the [url=https://s3.amazonaws.com/gt7sp-prod/decal/28/29/82/6052921467102822928_1.png] Olympus Heavy Industries[/url] logo embossed across the rear fenders in matching blue, however the customary workman in the midst of the massive sprocket had been replaced by the characteristic triskelion of the [url=https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51QZNBUwTIL._SX425_.jpg][i]Isle of Man[/i][/url] making the amalgamation appear as a single giant gear emblazoned on the side of the car. Joel nodded approvingly as he looked it over. It was a clever bit of marketing. He ran his hand along the inside of the fender as he walked and drummed his fingers on the binder while his eyes continued to search for any sign of damage from shipping. Joel was a perfectionist
and his demeanor was completely focused for a moment as if the others were not even in the hangar. Like an artist examining an exquisite painting, he made his way around opening the “passenger” door and glancing inside for a moment. They would have thirty days to protest any mechanical defects with Aston Martin, but he doubted any of that would be necessary as he came back around to the rear wing where Marlin was standing. “You should be able to appreciate this being a pilot,” He said matter-of-factly tapping the pen from the binder on the spoiler endplate. “Your granddad had a clever idea.” He lifted lightly at a seam on the interior of the spoiler’s surface demonstrating that the wing actually separated in two allowing air to pass through unheeded. “This wing has a drag reduction function like an [url=https://thumbs.gfycat.com/DisgustingCandidCob-size_restricted.gif]
F1 car.[/url]” He said glancing back towards Max. “Mr Olympus likes to study the rule book.” 


[@PrinceAlexus]