She scoffs at the very concept of a woman with such an ironclad will, unaware of the existence of Dee Aisli, and wouldn't that be an amusing meeting, having this redheaded temptress in the same place as the Chantry treasure-seeker? "Oh, I assure you, while there are very few of us with the courage to see things through, every woman who has ever seen a Templar in the street or on guard at the Chantry has had wandering thoughts. Every single one. It's merely a matter of who will admit it."
Then the powder, and the stitching, and the wound. Az, safely at the Templar's back, flinched in sympathy - it was effective medicine, and effective very rarely meant pleasant - and stitched, swift and deft, tying off the ends of the makeshift sutures while he talked, steel returning to her palm long enough to cut the threads close to the knots. Then she released him and sat back on her heels, her brow and mouth quirking at the last bit. "If you're wanting to kiss me, you don't have to have me close my eyes to do it." But she complied, only briefly flicking one blue-green eye open to glance at him warily before sitting as told.
And if there was a little tension in her shoulders, a paranoid readiness to tear out his throat and tumble through the window, well, what of it?