"..what a surprise."
Odin has been sitting at one of the VIP portions of his own host club, the product of his hardwork and sweat—the only business that thrived off him.
He wasn't really fond of going 'out' there, and he had his own office at the top floor of the five-floor wide establishment, but supposedly he has a particular 'customer' to talk things with, that took more than two decades in the making before even uttering a word to each other.
"Where's Freyja?"
That's the first thing she asked off, not even a hello or any greeting, her voice was even demanding that she didn't even want to command respect to him anymore. She flew a thousand miles to be there after she made up with her prideful mind and build the guts to talk to him.
"My, my. How rude of you! You were even kinder when we're having our separation."
"I don't care about you. I need to see my daughter."
"Took you four years before having the guts to look for your daughter? You surely are a good mother."