Cassio frowned deeply as Iago spoke, shocked to hear what nearly seemed to be a confession pour forth from the man's lips. This would be, he thought, as close to condemning himself as the ancient would come, confessing himself freely to merit the villainous appellation Cassio could not help but grant him now, all but admitting to some inclement circumstance and some ill treatment wrought of it...
...And yet, the man sounded so weary, so very sick at heart and soul, that Cassio could not bring himself to direct any rancor towards one he might have, in happier times, considered friend. He brought his gaunt hand to his brow as though the very thought of being made to relate those strange occurrences of yesternight caused him pain...though perhaps that spoke more to his seemingly wretched physical state than any weight of remorse. Perhaps Cassio was too quick to forgive, when the man this amnesty sought to redeem spoke false of his sorrowed guilt, to save face.
In faith, you judge him too harshly! he berated himself; though his heart and his mind related to him tales disparate, he knew beyond doubt when the time for excoriation was meet, and when it was not. Now...his earlier antipathy had dissipated like mist in the sunlight, replaced by what he could only quantify as pity. Indeed, he did pity the renegade ensign, haggard and disheveled and aggrieved as he was...though verily, Emilia could not be in much of a better state. 'Twould be fortuitous indeed for husband and wife to be reunited, for if they would not reveal the deleterious truth...they could, at the very least, find solace in each other. Even Cassio could not fault them that.
"Though I may not have called you friend," he began slowly, hearing in his tone a warmth that had not been present before, "you did have my utmost respect. In light of all you have done, I hope you will forgive me that that respect has been...cast aside, as it were, for I cannot condone in any man actions of such unwarranted violence as yours. But...if you truly wish not to relate those 'foul and unhappy happenings,' as you say..." He trailed off briefly, glancing back to meet Iago's pale, shadowed eyes, searching for a mere glimpse of the keen, biting wit and intuitive compassion he saw so often before in them, but finding only broken darkness. "I will not force the occasion upon you. In faith, it is not my place...nor is it my wish to cause your wife...or you, sir...further pain in the recollection."