Frankie passed over to their satchel-style bag, which they'd apparently dropped soon after they came in, and squeezed most of their clothes into it before kicking off their boots. It seemed the thing to do. Then they brought the bag over to the kitchen, dropping it gently on the floor. "Thanks," they said, grabbing the mug. Their nose twitched at the false equivalency, but they weren't really that offended. It's not like they'd explained yet.
It took a few seconds for Frankie to decide how to arrange their limbs, especially given that they didn't want to stick their feet on a chair. In the end one heel just caught the edge of the chair and bent up, an arm wrapping around their knee to keep it in place and allow holding the mug in two hands. "I kind of want to talk about it," they said. "But it's not ... easy to follow maybe?"
Taking a fortifying sip of the drink before continuing, Frankie considered where to start. "The name my parents gave me has pretty much never felt right. I started using Frankie when I was in primary school, sometimes Frank a bit later," they shrugged. "I just thought I wasn't the girly-girl my mum always wanted and I liked trousers and short hair and stuff better. Totally valid way to be a woman, right?" they said and sighed. "Mostly I thought it was that, and not wanting to emphasise my chest too often. Liking robes a bit more on the masculine side, like the ones I got from you.
"Then I got to thinking some more, thinking about gender. I picked up some books from the queer bookshop in muggle London. I already did it when I figured out I didn't just like guys." They paused and gave a bit of a self-effacing smile. "I'm a house stereotype like that, look in books first." They sighed. "I read some things, and I don't know which words fit best yet, but I don't feel girl or woman is the best fit. I'm not a man either. Somewhere in between or outside that. How I want to present it shifts though. I've not figured it all out yet."