Ludwig takes a couple deep breaths. Looks at Feli, back to the wall. Feli again, and back.

This is Feli. Feli is Feli, from the stance and the hum maybe a couple days from switching back to 'he' again. Feli is Feli, and they should not be nervous about this because Feli will not be ridiculous or awful or anything about it, Feli will be Feli about it. Which, okay, yes, there's a bit of ridiculous implied in that, but the harmless kind.

They almost clear their throat, and then don't, and try not to bounce the pen they're holding on the desk. It's bad enough if someone else does that, if they do it it's irritating and they'll know it's irritating.

Ludwig has almost given up on this and decided that tomorrow, tomorrow they'll definitely broach the subject and put into use one of the many contingency plans they've thought up for this situation, and then Feli strolls over and bumps her hip against Ludwig's side.

"You're making a face like you're thinking way too much about something," she says. Ludwig stares up at her, remembers how she hadn't really brought it up until they were already used to the dresses. They don't want to change how they dress, how they look—they're not sure about acting, haven't had the chance, it's just—this. Feels like too much to ask for something that's not really even a vital matter, just something they'd like, something they want to feel once in a while.

"…I probably am," they say.

Feli shoves some of the papers on the desk out of the way and sits on some others. "Do you want to think about it at me?"

"That's—what I'm thinking about."

"Ooh," she hums, and rests a hand on their shoulder. Ludwig finds themself staring at her knees—paint-spattered jeans, and a shirt almost down to them, she's still stealing Ludwig's laundry. "It's not anything really bad, is it?"

"Shouldn't be."

Feli raises her eyebrows expectantly, and Ludwig takes a slow breath, and another one, and then lets out "If—if you're ever talking to—to Gilbert, or Kiku, about me, could you—could you maybe say 'they' instead of 'he' and not say I'm a man and. Mn. It won't—it won't be awful if you don't I just think it—might be nice if you do."

Feli gives them a long, slow look, and then moves her hands to cup the sides of their head and ruffle the hair behind their ears. "Of course I can, dear. Gilbert and Kiku?"

Ludwig feels the beginnings of adrenaline wash shaking their hands. "I—yes. Maybe Alfred and Erzsébet, I—I don't know yet." The rest of them—the rest of them is starting to shake too, just a little, and Feli slides off the desk and into their lap, guides their head to her shoulder.

"Nobody else?"

"I don't—" Ludwig swallows. "I don't want it to—be a thing everyone knows. Just—ones I know and, and trust—" They stutter over the last word, and Feli is smiling against their ear.

"Do Gilbert or Kiku know yet?"

"…You're the—the first one I told," they mutter, and Feli gives them an incredible squeeze. "…You don't think this is…silly, or anything—"

Feli pulls back to look them in the face, round features set. "Ludwig, you're never silly about anything. Except dishes." Ludwig sets their head back down on her shoulder, letting out a long breath through their nose, and Feli pets through the short hair at the base of their neck and Ludwig can't really help kissing the underside of her jaw, and then her jaw and cheek and the side of her nose, and Feli laughs a little and says "Okay, you're silly now," and plants an exaggerated kiss of her own between their eyes, and promises to be there as just-in-case moral backup when they tell Gilbert.

Not that Feli even needed to promise. They knew she would.