"Hello, Odin. I would be very happy to speak with you, but I just finished seeing a patient. I need to summarize his condition and may need to follow up on his treatment, so perhaps we could arrange something tomorrow..."
Schiller had barely reached that point when a crack of thunder sounded behind him. He put down the phone and sighed helplessly. As he turned around, he muttered, "It would have been so much better if they'd come earlier..."
"Do you think I arrived late?" Odin's voice came from behind Schiller. "I thought that, for a psychiatrist, any time ought to be just right."
Schiller turned and saw Odin, broad and imposing. What surprised him, however, was that Odin was not wearing his usual armor. Instead, he wore traditional Asgardian clothing, dressed like a Viking.
Traditional Viking attire did not actually resemble that of pirates. Instead, it was somewhat similar to the image of ancient Chinese soldiers: soft garments underneath, hard chain mail fastened over them, a sword and horn at the waist, and a horned helmet on the head.
Dressed this way, Odin no longer seemed as overwhelmingly majestic as before. Instead, he carried a touch more ease and wildness. His manner matched it as well. Without the slightest sense of ceremony, he strode past the desk, crossed to the sofa, dropped heavily into it, slapped the armrest, and asked, "Do you have any alcohol?"
"Of course, Your Majesty, though I'm afraid it is not as fine as Asgardian wine. I only have champagne." Schiller walked to the wine cabinet and inspected the bottles inside, seemingly trying to select a good one for Odin. But Odin did not care in the least. Tugging at his beard, he said:
"I have lived on Earth longer than you have. I know