He watches the 'rain' fall, expression utterly unreadable. Then, suddenly, faint music fills the air. It's distant and muffled, so much so that it's impossible to pick out a tune, but it's still somehow unmistakably music.

Sheogorath's eyes stare off into the distance at something unseen and unknown, and for a brief instant, happiness and sorrow and grief flash across his face in quick succession.

Then, he tilts his head, looking at Fever as if he's seeing her a certain way for the first time. After a moment, he straightens his posture and resumes the mien of the sharp-eyed half-elf.

"Well, my dear. I have enjoyed this, but I'm at risk of letting my stories for another time creep up on me, and I've other mortals to stir up trouble with."