Golden hair is as distinctive across a crowd as a bald pate, at least in most company. It must be admitted that Milliways is full of distracting forms, both in color and in strangeness; nonetheless, Bossuet may notice the familiar figure coming down the stairs.
(Enjolras's clothing would not be out of place in 1830; two years doesn't make so much of a difference, and Enjolras has never cared to be on the cutting edge of fashion. The bright tricolor on his lapel, too, will be no surprise. But the black and grey of mourning are new. A close eye might discern, too, the two years of greater age in his face -- though perhaps not, as Enjolras has always looked both older than his age and years younger.)
The precise moment at which he spots Bossuet is entirely visible. His face lights up, brighter than anyone at Milliways (except Grantaire, Gavroche, and now Bossuet) will have seen. "Bossuet," he breathes, too quiet to be heard across the bar, and then he's hurrying, as close to running as the barroom will allow.
no subject
(Enjolras's clothing would not be out of place in 1830; two years doesn't make so much of a difference, and Enjolras has never cared to be on the cutting edge of fashion. The bright tricolor on his lapel, too, will be no surprise. But the black and grey of mourning are new. A close eye might discern, too, the two years of greater age in his face -- though perhaps not, as Enjolras has always looked both older than his age and years younger.)
The precise moment at which he spots Bossuet is entirely visible. His face lights up, brighter than anyone at Milliways (except Grantaire, Gavroche, and now Bossuet) will have seen. "Bossuet," he breathes, too quiet to be heard across the bar, and then he's hurrying, as close to running as the barroom will allow.