"Evidence only suggests that this one wanted to help your 'injured father,'" Desi retorted. And it was stupid and foolish of him to be so easily taken in by Yonca's lies, but he didn't mention that. He'd certainly mock the templar's lack of insight some other time, but he didn't feel the need with Yonca at it already. He knew a dead templar at their backs was wiser than a live one, but it wasn't like there was any end to the templars anyhow. "A bleeding heart isn't the worst of crimes."
Desi didn't even bother attempting to claim that the templar was too heavy to drag that far. They could manage it if they had to, and by now Yonca certainly knew that he would help her with that much if it came down to it.
"They know what I look like already anyway. A description of your face isn't going to lead them to you so readily either. What could he pick up from a few seconds? Brownish hair, middling light complexion, rather young. Could be anyone--the Chantry claims apostates are a coldhearted lot. We don't need to go around confirming their claims," Desi replied with a shrug.
"As you will then." With a disgruntled sigh, Desi broke his gaze and turned to retrieve a rope from their packs up the hill. He couldn't win a staring contest against Yonca, and even if he did, it wouldn't decide anything. Desi figured this was likely the best concession he'd get out her. Nevertheless, he glanced back behind him, not trusting that she'd put away her knife for good.