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"Down!"
Thel hardly registered the word, only hearing it as an echo whenever he relived the memory. An explosion had sounded before it, hard metal had thrown him to the ground as it sounded, and his mind temporarily lapsed with a distracting thought right after.
This wasn't the first time Thel had made contact with Spartan armor. It wasn't even the first time he'd done so in a friendly context.
Commander Palmer had saved his life, even if it meant tackling him to the ground in an uncouth, disorientating manner. That seemed to just be the M.O. of Spartans, no matter their generation.
He wondered, if the Master Chief were present, would he have done the same thing? Taken Thel into his arms and push him to the ground, his green Mjolnir armor covering him up despite the presence of Thel's own ceremonial gold.
Gods, it was always the armor with him. He'd think he had a fetish for Spartan armors - because certainly the armor of his fellow Sangheili didn't elicit the same thoughts - if his mind didn't wander to that model in green in particular.
When the danger had passed, which took only moments, Thel got off the floor and remembered himself: the Arbiter, diplomatic relations, a Covenant attack. Now was no time to be lost in tactile memories that grew fainter each year.
But when it was all over? Perhaps he could calm his nerves from the failure of peace talks by meditating on distractions.