Conlan sat up from his pile of cushions and regarded Ordhan quietly. The two had known each other long enough that "something from a long time ago" could come from any number of times in their shared history. Unfortunately, most of those times were things Conlan would rather leave buried.
Con took that moment to take another deep swig from his mug. He swallowed the air, and the let out a breath. He decided to cover that discomfort the way he always did, with jokes.
"Is it a wedding present you've kept hidden away? I would love a fine set of cooking pots. Not for cooking, but due to my deep love of irony, I think they'd be great to hit her over the head with when we get back to Amaranthine." After a second he realized that Ord didn't seem willing to give up the object, and rather then continue to worry about it, he thought he'd push his friend, lest they become locked in an unending cycle of Ordhan denying that the object was what Con was guessing 9even if the guesses were sarcastic)
"Well, let's have it then, elves won't wait all day for me to ponder."