Farkas has been named oblivious many times in his life. He's also been deemed dull, dimwitted, dense, and many more less than flattering insults. He'll punch most who affront him.

However, the warriors of Jorrvaskr's playful ribbing is nothing new. He'll take it from a select few. Aela calls him icebrain, Vilkas will offhandedly make a jab at Farkas' intelligence, and he'll stay quiet, offer a chuckle at the creative ones. However, he can't dismiss it when his brother claims Farkas is clueless to the newbie's flirting. At first, he's sure his twin is teasing him again. He attempts to ignore Vilkas' snickering remarks, but the idea sticks to him.

It's true the whelp only requests to train with him, and now that he thinks about it, he's caught them staring probably too many times to be considered glances of admiration toward a superior warrior. Maybe the waves every time they see him are more than friendly acknowledgements.

"You get better every time we spar," Farkas states surely. He's impressed. The whelp gets stronger and more skillful every day.

The large greatsword he wields soon finds its place on his back. The weapon has weight, and he was sure not to swing it with his full might. Last time he did that, his sparring partner walked away with bruised ribs. He wouldn't want to do that to them.

If they are flirting, he doesn't think he'd mind it.