Sereda spies him as soon as he arrives, and though the clothes are strange on him, they look ... good. Not like the idiocy she's wearing. She sees him trying to look casual, but smiles - genuinely; he's the only one who can make her do that nowadays - as his legs start to move faster. If she wouldn't feel like an utter fool, she'd do the same thing.
And then he's standing in front of her, handsome and uncomfortable and embarrassed and wounded all at the same time.
As soon as he's spoken, she reacts. They're friends, and comrades in arms, at the very least. She's allowed to be happy he's here. Her arms wrap around him, not even really caring that it's around his middle because his neck is too sodding high up to reach. It's the move that counts.