"I am, it's hardly a secret I keep." Cecil sits up slightly, takes a last sip of coffee. "I take you now to...the Weather."

And from nowhere, music begins to play. Almost everyone in the tavern stops to listen to it, some looking up or around to see where it's coming from. But it's coming from nowhere. It's ambient, like weather ought to be. A bartender nods to the song. A patron taps a foot. Everyone is engaged in it, until the song is done--and inexplicably, they carry on like nothing happened.