She moves without thinking when she realizes that it's really Daryl, barely managing not to break into a run, until she's standing beside him, waiting for him to see her, too. (Nobody but an idiot, at this point, would throw her arms around him--or any of them--without making her presence known first.) Beside him, it seems ludicrous that she could have thought he was anyone else. He doesn't have the look of a Barrayaran, though with the clothes he's wearing, it's hard to say what he does look like.
Right up until he glances her way, anyway. Then he only looks like Daryl, regardless of the outfit. (She can nearly imagine the sleeves torn off.)
He looks at her like he expects her to crumble into dust, or for someone to come over and correct him--not Beth, someone else, forget it. It's a mirror of her first expression, she thinks, before she hurried over here and hope overtook everything else in her face.
But he's looking at her now, and he's the only thing from home that's found its way here. After two months of missing home, being able to wrap her arms around a piece of it--here! here and safe!--is all she wants. Beth pulls him up and hugs him as hard as she can.
you don't want any roy orbison? how about easy street?
Right up until he glances her way, anyway. Then he only looks like Daryl, regardless of the outfit. (She can nearly imagine the sleeves torn off.)
He looks at her like he expects her to crumble into dust, or for someone to come over and correct him--not Beth, someone else, forget it. It's a mirror of her first expression, she thinks, before she hurried over here and hope overtook everything else in her face.
But he's looking at her now, and he's the only thing from home that's found its way here. After two months of missing home, being able to wrap her arms around a piece of it--here! here and safe!--is all she wants. Beth pulls him up and hugs him as hard as she can.