Send [ 🍵 ] to have a invite Lon'qu for tea or for lunch, to wish him a happy birthday. Don't mind him bringing his sword, he'll lay it down... somewhere.
An afternoon spent in the training grounds was a deeply satisfying one in Diamant's book, and as he enters the arena to begin his usual drills, he is met with the sight of a recognizable man. Lon'qu was unfamiliar to the Brodian for the most part, but he was a fellow instructor for the Lions, and a swordsman besides—Diamant couldn't help but be curious about his skill.
And there was also the matter of...
"Lon'qu, right? I heard your birthday is today, so from one instructor to another, allow me to offer my regards." Diamant approaches the rack of training swords, reaching out to get one, before a sudden thought hits him, and his hand stills halfway.
"Since we're both instructors for the Lions, I considered inviting you out for a quick lunch in the mess hall. A chance for colleagues to become more acquainted with one another. But..."
Crimson eyes dip down to the sword held in the other man's grip, "How about a spar instead? Honestly, I've never been one for birthday celebrations myself. A bit of fishing and a good session of sword practice is all the festivity I need."
Send [ 🍵 ] to have a invite Lon'qu for tea or for lunch, to wish him a happy birthday. Don't mind him bringing his sword, he'll lay it down... somewhere. || Not Accepting
It wasn't something out of the ordinary anymore to be approached within or outside the army for many reasons—in the Shepard's it was almost daily, and sometimes hourly, he'd be called out for or chased by a teammate or ally of some sort. While comradery never was the issue—unless the person was a lady, but that was for their safety over his any how—he did not go out of his own way to make most of his own connections. While provided with a job that would lead him to be sociable and meet many people, he still has been rather slow on the... branching out, you see.
And this was no exception, especially as he was already figuring out where to move the sword dummies for personal use after all this. The thick, woven wooden dummies on stakes lose his interest as he, while hand resting easily over his hilt, turns towards a familiar stranger. Another instructor of renown, a Prince too, if he reminds him correctly, but he could be wrong. Instructor only, then. He's dealt with lordlings before in Chrom, and the familiarity of openness is traced with eyes of fire—a skilled warrior as well, besides his acclaim.
"Instructor Diamant," pretend it didn't take a moment for him to recognize the man, and you'll earn his favor, "I'll take up your offer for a spar. Been a while since I had another join me without needing instruction. Lunch after, we'll see how long it goes for."
His tone does not hold disparaging for those in question but the relief is palpable in its own right. He's always so tense with giving instructions he would consider himself almost borderline second guessing. With a sparring partner, actions are stronger than words, much to his appreciation.