Well, Wolfgang didn't want to say anything, but yes, it has been killing them. They have a hard enough time with normal interactions with normal people.
They tug on their hair, wrapping it around a finger, a nervous, restless gesture. “Well, I have another chair.” Only one, though, so they can't offer him a seat or anything.
They're saved from having to say anything else by a group of kids that comes running up, and Wolfgang pauses to turn towards them, their attitude an abrupt 180 — their face breaks into a smile when a kid in a homemade dragon costume holds out a pillowcase and hollers “Trick or Treat!” at the top of his lungs. They'd felt stupid a moment before, but now they wish they'd gone even more all-out, decorated the store with fake cobwebs and a plastic skeleton. They could probably make a crazy haunted house out of the place.
They give out candy in handfuls, causing one kid to look in his pillowcase and whisper whoa, and salute a six-year-old Buzz Lightyear, who clumsily salutes back before running off to his mom, cardboard wings flopping behind him. When they're gone it's quieter, and Wolfgang is still smiling.