[He's feeling it, too, but his demeanor is a little quieter. He smiles around his tusks and lets go so that she might sit. If he's offended that she took his chair, he doesn't show it. Ancestors know that thing is too small for him.]

There is nothing to forgive. [He keeps his tone light, and pulls another chair over to sit across from her-- though not across the whole table. The thing squeaks pitifully as he sits on it.] I am hardly amenable to this weather, myself.

Do you need anything? I will fetch it for you. [He'd offer his lunch, but it's... uh... gone. He ate it. Sorry.]