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With eyes closed and a heart open, you open your eyes.
Well, no. That's a flowery way of putting things. You're just... thinking, now. Staring off.
Through his make-up, sloughing off from the sweat and the mask, you can start to see the scars of who Lalli is, underneath the facade he puts up. He's been injured, many times. Not even your father, whose career more than doubles Kiikoinen's in length, has even a third as many. And this is just the face.
Sharp green eyes, open only as slits, look ahead. His mind isn't here, you can tell. From what little of his neck you can see, he seems just passively tense, like he's about to puke or something. Something is in his throat.
There's something locking him up. Constricting. Binding.