An eyebrow rises at the answer, nothing more but a slight twitch. Legolas knows what he had seen and he stretches out a hand between the bars of the cell, palm up, long fingers held together in a gesture that speaks for itself, it demands the prisoner gives up what he's hiding and willingly at that. Though Legolas has no cell keys with himself and if the dwarf does not cooperate, whether out of respect for the jailer or fear (unlikely as that is, from what Legolas had already seen of the company), he will not be able to do much else until he returns with means to open the cell. The guards should have confiscated all weapons, though not that any of them would be of much use in the dungeons, but it seems something had slipped past their attention.

"Not much is still far from nothing," he says, tone unchanging, gaze unwavering and he holds the look turned towards him, "And I had seen a glint of what looked a blade to me, or are all dwarves liars?"

The insult rings clear once more, though it carries no venom nor does it show any sort of sense of self-satisfaction that one could or would expect. Legolas simply states facts based on opinions, on the things he had been taught or learned himself during his life. Life that was long already, yet he had still seen so little of the world, never having stepped far beyond the borders of the Mirkwood forest and not for his lack of desire to or lack of trying.

Dwarves were not loved in the Woodland Realm, and as the King's son it showed in the prince's attitude in particular, though he took no joy nor pleasure out of any of this.