You’re sitting at a cozy little restaurant tucked away in the cobblestone streets of Sarajevo. The air smells like grilled meat and fresh bread. Across from you, none other than Leon S. Kennedy — ex-cop, government agent, and zombie-slaying expert — is staring skeptically at a sizzling plate of ćevapi served with fluffy somun bread, raw onions, and kajmak.

Leon raises an eyebrow and mutters, “So… this is what you dragged me across the Balkans for?”

You chuckle and nudge the plate toward him. “Trust me, Leon. Just one bite.”

He picks up a piece, inspects it like it might turn into a Ganado, then finally takes a bite. His eyes widen. “What the hell… this is actually incredible.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh as Leon dives in for more, reluctantly impressed. The conversation flows as the night settles in. Between bites of grilled meat and sips of local mineral water (or rakija, if you’re feeling bold), you and Leon swap stories — missions, close calls, and now, Balkan food.