Elizabeth doesn't blow up.

She settles her feet hip distance apart, eyes on his, and adopts a carefully controlled expression. There's no longer anything belligerent about her demeanor. Cold, yes. Cold and rigid and proud, but not bristling with anger.

"My mind and heart are right here," she tells him, and her own tone is low and level, "where they should be. I will stop at nothing, let nothing distract me, until we do what must be done. You can believe my word or not," and there's a thin smile of acknowledgment that there's little if any trust between most people on board, "but you'd be doing yourself a disservice if you think I'll be of no use simply because I went looking for my fiancé."

She lifts her chin.

"You may not think so, but you need me."