Gil stood in front of the other mans door, quite unsure on how he should proceed. It's been a few hours since the rest of the group had eaten. Everyone except Odin, that is. Even with their differences and tense interactions, Gil was starting to get worried.
But it was the same kind of emotionally charged disputes that made it so hard for Gil to take that final step to knock on the door. Even with the plate of food in his hand, would Odin even accept it? Would he automatically reject the meal from the only fact that Gil was the one who presented it to him? The blue boy sighed, figuring that only trying will give him an answer. He he lightly rapped his knuckles on the old school solid door.
"Odin? Uh, It's me Gil," Oh geez, how stupid of him. Of course Odin already knows it's him. "I've brought you a plate from dinner."