It's literally just a dog

Shane's pulse was hammering in his chest and his ears and he couldn't breathe and he couldn't breathe and -

It was just a dog! So why was he pressed against the wall in an alleyway gripped by the irrational certainty that he was going to die here?

Because after several days spent overseeing negotiations between two kingdoms teetering on the edge of war -

- a meeting that felt like it was going to erupt into a brawl if anyone made one wrong move -

- he was exhausted and on edge and the mere sight of a dog holding a bit of meat in its mouth reminded him of nothing so much as -

- the eternity he spent fleeing and limping away from jaws with purple teeth until he tripped and was torn down, his eyes barely able to focus anymore when what he later learned was Ozrich's magic flared and spun above -

Okay. One dog. Across the street. On a leash. Well-behaved. Public place someone would be able to help him. Probably just a butcher bone.

There was a little girl staring wide-eyed at him, broom in hand, caught mid-sweeping the porch. He looked down. His armblades were fully extended. With an effort of will he dismissed them. He laughed nervously, still struggling to catch his breath. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just. Scared. Of dogs."

The girl let out a nervous giggle, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

"It's okay," he said, as much for his benefit as for the girl's. "To be scared. Of silly things. Just - as long as - you're brave - when it really counts."

"Mister Goldburn," she said, "do you need to sit down?"

He looked at his hands, which were still shaking, and slid to the ground. "I. Yes. Actually. Can you... bring me water?"