Fics like auguris

“That was fucked.” “Yeah. Yours, too.” George eyed him, the harsh lines around his mouth softening. “Still don’t believe in luck?” What could Max say to that? Because whatever it was, this long string of complete and utter fuck-ups for them both since the season started, could completely be explained away logically. Mistakes happen. Engines fail. Science had its limits. Human errors, as it were, were aplenty. But George’s run—George’s run had been, without exaggeration, monumentally fucked, as if everything that could possibly go wrong did, and Max understood statistics, to a point, but even he couldn't help giving it a second thought. But he wasn’t going to tell George that. Max continued to track the seagulls and the cormorants and watched them in their formations, and George finally commented, breaking the silence, “You’re into augury now, too.” “The what?” “Telling omens by birds.” The ghost of a smile passed through George’s face. “What? I can watch documentaries too.” Post Monaco Grand Prix 2026. They're on a boat.

Fics like auguris

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