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Anyways, smokejumpers, fuckin’ legends, yeah? We’re nuts—parachutin’ into blazes, no roads, no backup, just guts. Reminds me of *Ratatouille*—yep, my fave flick. “Anyone can cook,” Remy says, right? Well, anyone can jump into hellfire too, if they’re crazy enough! I love that lil’ rat—smartarse, scrappy, like me. Whores—er, smokejumpers—got that same vibe. Underdogs, y’know? People think we’re just reckless twats, but nah, we know shit. We see the flames others don’t.

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After that, I decide to grab lunch at this little trattoria on Via Mazzini. The food? To die for! I order some pasta, and it’s like a hug in a bowl. Seriously, I could live off this stuff. But then, the waiter spills water all over my lap. I’m soaked! I’m laughing, but inside I’m like, “C’mon, man!”

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