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Farkas is sitting on a bench in the main hall in Jorrvaskr, staring into a tankard of mead. He seems to do that a lot. Not drinking it, mind you. Just staring. I think it's his way of avoiding having to make conversation.
"Terra?" he says softly.
I look up, surprised. It's unusual for anyone to use my name around here. It's all 'shield-sister' and 'Dragonborn' and, as often as not, 'hey you.' "What is it?" I ask.
"You're not bothered that I'm a werewolf, are you?"
"Why should I be bothered? You're not bothered that one of my distant ancestors was apparently a dragon."
"That's different, though. I mean, it makes you unusual, but it doesn't change who you are. You've seen me turn into a...beast."
I shrug. "When you're human, you're big, strong, hairy, and loyal. When you're a wolf, you're big, strong, hairy, and loyal. Different shape, but it's the same man underneath."
"Oh." He goes back to staring into that tankard. It's hard to tell underneath the war paint and the stubble, but I think Farkas is blushing.