"I don't know!" The Balladeer waves a hand, to indicate that the idea of him knowing his own origins is patently ridiculous. Where does anything in his universe come from? "I've never been any younger than this. Unless like...I'm just a weird second personality."

The identity of the hypothetical original personality is obvious. The Balladeer frowns, a shade of his former gloom crossing over his face again. "That's the one that makes sense, isn't it?" Okay, that's not quite the right phrase. No explanation is really going to make sense. Nothing from his universe does. And Lee Harvey Oswald spontaneously developing a second personality - of a musician - is frankly bizarre. None of the other assassins did anything like that. He's pretty confident in that judgement; surely someone would have said something.

Also he simply cannot picture Booth being anything other than slimy and smug.

But then, him spontaneously bursting into existence is even stranger, right? "Beth was upset about not having a name," he remembers aloud. "She worried a lot more about that stuff than me. I should've listened more to her."