The racetrack had several tracks, and from some of them, bouts of cheering and women's shrieks could occasionally be heard.
In comparison, this place seemed much quieter.
Wayland Pierson stood up, clapped his hands lightly, and walked towards Jesse Rowan.
"Brother Rowan, it's time to get ready for the race. Honestly, looking at your worn-out state, I almost feel sorry for you."
"Can't you see I'm smoking? You can't even wait for the time it takes to finish one cigarette? What's the rush, heading to reincarnation?"
"..." Wayland Pierson pressed a hand to his forehead. Why was he talking so harshly, like he owed him a billion dollars or something?
Still, Jesse Rowan looked grim, his expression anything but pleasant.
"Brother Rowan, I'll head to the car first. Five minutes left." Wayland Pierson stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, wearing a half-smile, half-smirk on his face.
With the mood Jesse was in, he was sure to win today.
