He'd been reading when Yonca first spotted the templar. This was some longwinded treatise on the history of one nation or another. It involved an awful lot of warring, bloodshed, imperialism, conquering of natives, and the usual sort of thing found in most every nation's history. Her movement jolted Desi out of the book, and Yonca's haste could only mean one thing. Desi tossed the book into the traveling pack, losing his page but he could always find it again later. Or if he couldn't, it hardly mattered if his knowledge of Nevarran history was a bit a spotty.
He twisted around on the log to look further along the path. There was a man in armor. To be fair, anyone could be traveling alone to Denerim at about this time in armor and carrying sizable packs with him. Unlikely though.
Desi found himself feeling calmer now, even excited to be doing something at long last, but he usually did as soon as he had to be. Panicking was something he saved for when he had the luxury for it. "I saw," he replied tersely as he reached for his staff. He'd been trained with a quarterstaff as a little boy. It was always the first weapon taught to children, though most warriors probably learned their trade by trial and error. Supposedly it taught balance and awareness of space, but for Desi, all that mattered was that it carried a fantastic axis of rotation to launch a quick, precise smack to the back of the head.
He took the vials from Yonca wordlessly, nodding his thanks, though he raised an eyebrow when she glanced to his legs. The swiftness salve probably wasn't going there if he wanted any chance of being swift. As she went on, Desi refrained from protesting that he felt no exhaustion. The boredom of waiting had taken its toll on his reflexes and energy even if he were wide awake. He could do with a pick-me-up, and at least it wasn't the one that was glowing blue, though the maroon sludge didn't exactly inspire any appetite in him either.
Desi followed Yonca as she sped away, pausing to dutifully look down at the root and took note of it. Then he looked back up and wished he hadn't any anxiety written on Yonca's face. "I'm ready--my part in this is the straightforward one. I mastered how to open a vial and apply or drink its contents long ago. You don't have to trust me, but I'll be fine." He shrugged and tried to make his only question sound like a courtesy rather than an actual concern--Desi didn't want to offend her, not now. "Will you be alright?"