The darkness recedes a bit, becoming indistinct once more, and the figure the light turns towards the happy figure, before turning to patrol the dead bodies.

"Call me Swan. And, well, fleet battles are for navy pukes. I'm a groundpounder. Doubt we can really do anything to stop it, not unless his place has rather more military than they've shown so far. "

Swan occupies himself making sure that each of the flayers is truly dead. Easy enough when they aren't moving. Not wanting to waste bullets, he simply gives each corpse with light still in it's eyes a few good simple hacks with River.