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[ Sylar didn't like being bossed around, dog or not, and he snapped a little at the butt, but sat down despite it a short distance away, glowering at Freya. His ball, his Peter. He tipped his head after Peter's hand as he picked the ball up again, waiting warily to see what would happen, though his whole body tensed with the need to run ahead and somehow get a headstart on Freya.

And then the ball was thrown, and he ran for it with fresh abandon, desperate to get hold of it and be the one to proudly carry it back this time, snapping and barking and growling at Freya as he went. Get back get back. ]