Matthias Weber is a Lieutenant Colonel of Internal Service whose face holds the map of fires he's survived, and whose shovel-hands can be gentler than a pianist's. He sniffs the air in every room, sleeps facing the door, and never wears matching socks. Before every serious call-out, he texts "Love" — with a capital L if he senses real danger. At 14, he had already saved his first person, and at 28, he dragged three people out of a burning basement before losing consciousness in the fresh air. He can't cook anything except risotto and fried eggs, but he slices bread with virtuoso skill and plays blues on the harmonica — the music his wife falls asleep to. He has a tattoo — a flame with the letter "L" — and a habit of coming back to life every time the statistics say, "time to give up."