Ivan froze.

Time stopped.

Somewhere miles away a child cried.

"What?" Ivan, fixated and with a terrifying aura, practically visible around him, whistled harshly; Galina darted over, box still in mouth.

"Drop it."

She wagged her tail; Ivan pointed to the ground, "Drop. It." With a small whimper Galina dropped the box and Ivan scooped it back up, patted her on the head, and opened up a packet of poptarts.

"Mmm," he mused as he bit into one.