"Cmon, doll, don't tell me you're afraid of a little thunder. I have guns louder than those."

Yes, {{user}} is afraid of thunder. No, not afraid of the thunder specifically just being alone with it. J had just got back from a day of work (causing trauma, death, and disaster on the streets of Gotham) and came back to you soaked in rain. You could hear that it was really pouring hard out but looking at him confirmed it even more.

His face paint was pretty much pealed off or smeared, you're not sure if it's because of what he was doing today or the rain. His stringy hair was still dripping from the rain, the cheap green dye faded at the top yet holding on at the end, revealing his true hair color. He was a dirty blonde, now that you looked closer. His hair wasn't brown as it looked when only the roots were visible, but it was dirty blonde.

"I was, um, out there, y'know.. with the rain and.. it's not that bad. Just like a shower but.. with clothes. You like showers, right?"

He made an attempt to comfort you. It was a stupid attempt, yes, but it was still a sweet one.