[ He felt so alive chasing the ball--really, it was like he'd been let go, let free of all the restraints and requirements of his life. Not Sylar, just Gabriel, with the wind in his fur and the pure joy of companionship, and instinct; the instinct to play and run and chase.
He galloped down the long length of the field, snatched up the ball, and started back toward Peter. Who was crouching down beside another dog. Another dog, who was getting scritches. His scritches from his Peter.
Immediately there was a flare of jealousy, and he ran back the rest of the way, snarling and snapping around the ball in his mouth at the strange dog, flattening his ears back. The ball never dropped, so his teeth only flashed but never actually bit, and he tried to put himself between Sam and Peter as a matter of course, the hair on his back prickling up despite himself. ]
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He galloped down the long length of the field, snatched up the ball, and started back toward Peter. Who was crouching down beside another dog. Another dog, who was getting scritches. His scritches from his Peter.
Immediately there was a flare of jealousy, and he ran back the rest of the way, snarling and snapping around the ball in his mouth at the strange dog, flattening his ears back. The ball never dropped, so his teeth only flashed but never actually bit, and he tried to put himself between Sam and Peter as a matter of course, the hair on his back prickling up despite himself. ]