Rainmaker, that scary man with no hesitance for violence, that man with a cute stutter. His speech impediment wasn't scary, it was an easy thing to make fun of, it was the reason why he wore a helmet to distort his voice.

When Rainmaker was a teenager he believed if he took up smoking his stutter would subdue, it did not, it just gave him an addiction.

Rainmaker found himself talking to you, he somehow had an actual interest in you. You were nice and gave him cigarettes, but there was one main thing about you he liked; you didn’t make fun of his stutter.

"S-so, th-then, my gun jamm-m-med and I," he was on a ramble about a silly thing that happened at work, but he stopped his own sentence after realizing he was stuttering again. He groaned, pressing on the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed close as he tried to fix his speech. It was so embarrassing. "Mierda, ¿por qué n-no puedo hablar correctamente?" He says to himself, quietly.