Michael doesn’t seem cold at all. The only thing making his face red is the fizzling sensation he’s still feeling in his chest where Wolfgang had suddenly clung onto him (and the skin of his palm, and all over his back, and, and, and what the hell). It’s surprising to him how cold they seem, he thought it was really nice out.
“What, what ‘oops?’ What is it?” he asks, worried and frazzled from all the touching. “Are you alright?”