"Ah. I'm sure you would have done well in either path," he mused. "Or are doing well, or whatever grammatical tense we ought to be using when referring to the 'real' world. This seems real enough to me that I sometimes forget that nothing here really matters."
No matter what effort he made to 'remake' himself, he died a misanthropic bastard, alone and reviled by everyone. For him, this was reality. Or all of reality that was left to him.
He glanced to the stage area where someone seemed to be mucking about with lights and the piano or something. Severus's knowledge of music was next to nothing at all, but he did realise that she might be humouring her old Professor beyond what she had time for.
"I hope I'm not keeping you from your work?" He had half a mind to stay to listen to her sing, but perhaps he would make her uncomfortable if he did.