Iago. Yes, that was the name. Bianca could recall the moment well; the man's reputation had, unbeknownst to Roderigo, preceded him, and the poor karakiozi had made himself egregiously an ass in calling himself such. Looking at the man now, she was surprised she had not guessed his identity afore.
"Of course," the ancient said smoothly, though she could hear an edge of steel in that low voice that made her step quickly towards her beloved Cassio's side, as though to protect him from the other man's rancor. "It seems not meet for my...absence to have caused so great a disturbance."
"We have only recently come upon him," Bianca added, giving Roderigo a cautious glance even as she pressed herself invitingly against the broad expanse of Cassio's chest. She was no fool; from Iago's tone, she would wager he was ill-inclined to divulge to Cassio the state in which he had been found. She could oblige him that; she could understand only too well the disinclination to reveal weakness. "Myself and this anóitos here, that is. He, I think, would be grateful if you could include him in your return to the general, my agapi...though it may be to the advantage that I should come along, to explain to your Moor that your ancient was doing no wrong in his tardiness."
The latter point, of course, was only half-true, for she longed simply to remain in Cassio's company for as long as was possible...though she was rather loath to divest herself of Iago's wit, as well. Besides the which, the frigid politeness in her lieutenant's cultured voice was something she was ill-accustomed to hearing, and she yearned to discover its cause. What had this Iago done, to merit such a great search and so little of enthusiasm in his reception, to put so cool a look on her Cassio's face? In faith, her curiosity was great...and as such, a thing that could not be ignored.