Even though he definitely might not be looking his very best these storm-weary days—oh boy, oh jeez, this December sure has done quite the number on him—and even though his scruffy muzzle is most definitely looking black and blue—looking almost, I would definitely say, like a deli-style slice of urban roadkill—Giacomo’s walnut nose broken and bandaged with two or three teeny-weeny strips of electrical tape, angry purple sickles curling up underneath his grizzly eyes, coffee-drizzled lumps of bloody snot knitting his weeklong beard into a fuzzy quilt of cruddy crud. Oh yes, even though you would probably definitely maybe say he looks like shit, like droopy dog shit, our favorite superhero doesn’t give one flying fuck.