Wheel hears Berlin, that old nag, speaking. What's said doesn't register. Hes gone numb, and the distance between his finger and the trigger is unfathomable. Speaking only to her, he says, 
"You owe me an explanation. "
"So do you."
They stare at each other.
Millies voice is level, " I thought you were dead."
"I might as well be."
"Not yet."
"No."
Millie lowers the spear, he keeps the musket level. Her lips twitch in what could be a smile. 
Her tentacles unfurl, raising high above her in the air.
She is terrifying, something monstrous still human.
So is he.
Her tentacles drop, dragging briefly on the deck before she pushes them erect, crossing the deck faster than anything should.
Towering over him, she stares down the barrel of the gun to his unmoving face.
"I went after you," she says in a choked whisper.
The gun trembles briefly, and he jerks it down as soon as he notices.
Weakness is how you die.
He can barely stand.
She drops heavily to her feet, her tentacles limp.
He buries himself in her arms.
"I'm sorry" he says, inaudibly.
They look up to the crowd watching them, and their scowls are identical. They beat a fast retreat to the far side of the deck, not speaking until their heads are bent close and they are safe.