Prodigal
Will pattered about in the mostly useless royal nursery, with his mostly useless un-royal self. The children were grown and until Eva decided the time was right to add branches to her family tree, everything was being packed up for later use. It was a bitter sweet moment for Omen who was now rudderless in Vernal Asgard. Healthcare was an odd practice in a society of super-beings.
While the telekine moved baby blankets, by hand, from a drawer to a storage tote, he stumbled upon a small expensive looking box. The box was complete with a note and a bow... so of course William read it. "From Thor to Eva," shocking he thought with a smirk - it was their private nursery. Then he noticed the intended delivery was supposed to be post-Astrid. "I guess everyone got busy," he remarked then attempted to see if he could unwrap the box without being discovered. Alas, earwax.
Curiosity having gotten the best of him, he left the nursey and traveled a few doors over to where Eva was being worked on by Tress. "Hey," he unceremoniously welcomed himself in, without checking to see how descent the queen was first - he'd get a hair tendril to the face if she wasn't. He knew the drill. "Open this," he handed the small box over to Zap without haste. "I found it in the nursery, it's for you. There's a poem about how wonderful you are. Who taught Thor about haikus? Open it," he repeated. "Oh, hi Tress," Will added with a wink.