Ambiguous, indeed. Harding isn't sure she'll get a reply to as what Leliana thinks when she shoots, or fights; the knife tips back and forth, no real indication of whether she'll answer or no. It could be the truth, or a fraction of it. Harding herself wasn't so good at imparting half-truths about herself, far too honest and far too direct, but that served her well enough, accomplishing what she needed to do.

But Leliana was different. You didn't get to being an organization's Spymaster without the ambiguity, without a few secrets. Harding knew enough to trust her implicitely, to do as needed, but there were doors she wouldn't dare to open. It's partly why she gives Leliana the escape; she doesn't have to say.

But as she does, Harding chooses to take it as the truth. The Maker is fitting for her, as is the rest. The knife hits the target before anything but her intuition notices it, which is when she chooses to respond. "And surely there's no better place to go about that than here in the Inquisition," she starts, but then shakes her head, amused. "Almost sounds like a campaign. Or a slogan." Something a dwarven merchant would say, probably. "Helping others sounds about right for you, though." Not Leliana's word choice, but reading the actual words is not the only thing Harding can do. Between the lines is more fruitful.