Murdering Native Americans. A guy who loves to strut his stuff as a soldier. Generally cold, all business, and ready to pounce on a goon who didn't salute promptly? Definitely sounded like the kind of guy who had his grubby palms all over Parry's sword.

"Well, the good news is he can't really use my sword to do anything crazy- like blow up the sun or enslave the human race. It's, like, fingerprint locked to me, so he's just got a really, really, really sharp sword." Parry nodded at Exie. "I think we should go for the spooky warehouse that may-or-may-not be a trap meant to kill us all. Not that my vote counts for anything. Unless our dear leader has any other ideas?"

Parry waited for Rikive to speak- either assenting or changing the plan. He'd follow the Norse demi-goddess to Hel and back with no complaints, if they could get to Hel from this city.