Roderigo stared at the lieutenant's proffered hand, panic momentarily freezing his mind as he struggled to formulate an appropriate response. Should he take the hand, as he would have in Venice, acting comfortably within the accepted standards of his and Michael Cassio's similar social positions? Or should he salute, as the lowly soldier whose guise he had assumed would? After all, that was what one did regarding commanding officers, was it not? Now, in this assumed role, he would have to treat even Iago with greater respect than he normally afforded his friend...for he, too, was an officer...
...But why should Cassio offer his hand so, if he did not intend for Roderigo to take it? Was this a test, to observe any insubordination in one who was (much to Roderigo's detriment, he realized) unfamiliar to the lieutenant? Was he merely reading too deeply into this? In faith, he was not ordinarily disposed to such conflicting thought; it unbalanced him, made him forget himself, all his manners and poise and grace...and wit! No, this simply would not do.
So Roderigo took Cassio's outstretched hand in what he hoped was a self-assured manner, and shook it with all the refined elegance he possessed. "I am called Lucentio, lieutenant," he said, the alias slipping smoothly from his lips, "and I am honored to make your formal acquaintance." His voice, he was pleased to note, was steady, betraying no boyish trepidation or intimidation, and he felt an enormous sense of pride sweep his heart at that accomplishment. "Indeed, I am one the general petitioned to search for our ancient. Fortunate I was to discover him, for the lady Emilia's sake, if nothing else."
He could only hope that Cassio would not ask him of reasons behind Iago's disappearance (why should he, when the man himself was there to answer?), for truly, he knew not at all why his friend had been thus absent. It had been a matter of grave import, surely, if his wearied, brooding look, and strange behavior of yesternight (in faith, his arm yet stung from that unhappy blow...) were any judge...and if the bold Emilia was reduced to tears. He knew the woman not well, but never had he seen her eyes so much as water from distressing circumstance. Something strange had befallen the two, something to which Cassio obviously was not privy. Even his meager wit (though, of course, he would never admit that to himself) could divine that.