Bigby has made an attempt at pretending the cold doesn't bother him. Most of this attempt is a coat which probably isn't sufficiently padded for most people, but he hates feeling constricted by clothing at the best of times.

This place is not the best of times.

He narrows his gaze slightly, nose twitching as he heads on over. Tingle of magic, heavy under the burst of new, green life and the vague spray of decay. "Sure. Not sure I can really help much."