Like I said, I got carried away. The lying got out of control. There used to be good reasons for it. There was a time, long time ago, when I only sometimes lied, like a normal person, and for normal person reasons.

And then I started having to keep more things hidden, so I lied more, and then I had to hide those lies by telling more lies and somewhere down the road it just became instinct. There wasn't really a specific time when it happened. Like, I can't point to a year and go "Ah yes, that's when I became a dishonest bastard." It grew gradually. Like, I dunno, rad poisoning. I figure by the time I'm forty, I'll be trying to tell people that the sky is purple and deathclaws are actually really gentle creatures, just misunderstood.

[An implicit lie about his age slips in there. He's forty-seven.]

There was no reason for me to lie to you. I did it because it's what I do.