Upon receiving Salomon's message, Kamar-Taj immediately sent Thor and Loki over, as if they were two money-losing burdens they were desperate to get rid of. Victor von Doom sent over the bill for Thor and Loki's expenses, even using magic to teleport the invoice directly before Salomon so the Lord of Kamar-Taj could see how many barrels of beer Thor drank every day and how many antiques Loki destroyed with his little daggers.
Victor von Doom possessed the Eye of the Vishanti and the Time Stone, but the magic he cast still had to be paid for. Out of courtesy, Salomon did not interrupt the family reunion, nor did he fling the bill at Frigga. He wrapped an arm around each Witch's slender waist—Jeanne struggled symbolically a few times—and stepped aside to make room for the family. Both Thor and Loki were clearly closer to their mother.
Odin sat alone on a large rock nearby, his white hair lashed by the gale. He looked utterly miserable, like an old man abandoned in a nursing home whose children refused to visit, left to play bingo only once a week—if Frigga had died in the Dark Elves' raid on the Golden Palace, this would have been Odin's original fate. No one would have believed Loki's magic could control Odin, yet there he was, waiting for Kamar-Taj to haul him off somewhere suitable, like a slug sprinkled with salt: slimy and irritating.
Fortunately, this oversized slug now had Frigga to care for him. If Salomon had been responsible, he would probably have sent over a year's supply of adult diapers and then washed his hands of the matter. After all, even an old thing that had lived for five hundred thousand years could not avoid the smell of old age. No matter how