"Yep, nothing like an alcoholic punch in the face to get the day started right." R'nshai's rueful smirk is practically jovial in comparison to the state of things around him. "Sir, if you want the bodies cremated before the bloody xenoes can get their vile hands on them, I can probably rig the drop's fuel lines to drain into the cabin. That way we only need a match, not a flamer, and as an added bonus the boat won't explode like a warping signal flare. Alright with you Sir?" he proffers the flask to the sergeant.