That wasn't the point. You already know almost as much about me as my family did and I didn't have to tell them anything. They know I swim because my dad made me swim.

[His father told him he could swim or he could run and he picked swimming. Then he made the swim team. Then, because he's never been able to keep himself from destroying anything that makes him happy, he quit before the first swim meet.]

Asking me to be less secretive is like asking a snake to walk. I'm physically incapable of it and that's the reason that after I died some guy I didn't even know managed to convince my family he was my friend to date my fucking sister.

[He takes a drink of what he's been holding. He's trying to mask the fact that he's unintentionally eased his symptoms in trying to prove a point, but forgets to use both hands to lift the cup like he was before this point. The problem with keeping your cards incredibly close to your chest is that saying almost anything about yourself makes the Overgrowth ebb and flow. It feels a little bit like a punishment designed specifically for him, but he can't blame it on the Storyteller for once.]