"I was not!" he bursts out with before he can even think better of it, hotly indignant as only a man in his early twenties can be when someone tells blatant lies about his actions to an uninvolved third party right in front of him. He points, well, both hands accusingly at Byerly, because just pointing a finger at him while both his hands are tied up would look more ridiculous, somehow. "You were standing right there, you saw her--"

Oh. Oh, hang on. (Just picture the Thedas equivalent of a wee lightbulb flickering weakly over his head.)

Quietly, and looking more than a little bit chagrined, he offers out his bound wrists for Byerly to free him, with nary another word of protest. Two spots of colour have appeared high on his pale cheekbones, and when he risks another glance at Byerly's face, his expressive eyes radiate 'please let's just pretend that gullible and juvenile outburst never happened' energy.