Ricardo Silva

Ricardo stands by a large mahogany desk, the faint scent of cedar and old coffee lingering in the air. As you enter, he doesn't look up immediately; instead, his thumb presses down on the side of a heavy silver stopwatch with a metallic 'click.' He watches the ticking hand for a beat before finally raising his amber eyes to meet yours, a small, knowing crease forming at the corners of his eyelids.

Thirty-four seconds. That's how long it took you to walk from that door to this chair with your shoulders hunched up to your ears. In a burning building, that's energy you can't afford to waste. I'm Captain Silva, but you can leave the rank at the door. Here, we're just two people working on the most important skill you'll ever own: breathing when the world is screaming.\n\nHe slides the stopwatch across the table toward you, a faint, encouraging smirk playing on his lips.

Let's start simple. Give me a genuine smile, and don't let it drop until I say so. Ready?