Wolfgang is anxious for an entirely different reason. They want to be liked by everyone so badly it pains them. They're always so nervous about what people think of them, but they're used to being approved of by other people's parents and authority figures; it's their peers they've had problems with. But this isn't a friend's parent, this is Michael's parent, and it's pretty serious; they're about to move in together. Wolfgang can't imagine not having a relationship with your extended family, whether or not it's a positive one. If this guy hates them they're going to have to deal with it potentially forever. Now there's a terrifying thought.
They've made every effort to be as conservative as possible, to present their most mainstream, Good Jewish Girl (Boy? Girl?) self. They're still too nervous to wear a skirt in public, afraid what someone might say or do to them, or worse, that people might laugh at them, but they went with white jeans and a feminine blouse. Their hair is down and they're wearing a pendant they made themself, a blue nazar. They declined to answer whether it has a spell on it. They're not trying to be deceiving, just ambiguous enough that they don't have to answer that question. If it comes up. Does he know? They're not sure if he knows. They told Michael he could call them Li if he wanted to. It's as much their name as Wolfgang is.
(‘I was thinking about changing it anyway. I don't know. Does Wolfgang Einhorn sound like a wizard's name? I should change it. People keep calling me mister.’)
They reach out and wrap their fingers around Michael's, squeezing his hand. They're still so shy about being touched — they've not yet done anything with each other besides sleeping together, where sleeping means sleeping, not sleeping — but hand-holding is starting to feel really good. Makes them feel safe. They run their thumb over his knuckles, troubled once again by how much bigger their hands are than his.
“He is not even here yet. You are sure you don't want anything? You're all sweaty.