Tyrion let out a hum. "Ah. Me too. I've fought in the War of the Five Kings and I've fought in another, longer war which I don't expect to win. I've fought it since the day I was born, since the gods gifted me with this..." He indicated himself, his stunted little body.

"The name 'Lannister' means little to you, does it, Rogers?" He sighed, clambering onto the nearest bed. "I've told you a lie. It's nothing personal, you understand. Nothing against you. My true name is Tyrion Lannister. My family is one of the great noble houses of Westeros, and through circumstances not entirely of my own design, I'm now in hiding from those who wish to kill me. Though some days I wonder why I even bother."

Odd, he thought confessing the truth would lift the weight of the burden from his mind. He was certainly free to share his true name with those not from the Seven Kingdoms, but the burden still pressed upon him. He smiled, the expression on his face mostly a sad mockery of a smile. "What a luxury it must be to fight for ideals. I think I'd prefer to live in your realm. In your 'America'."