"You make it sound like it's simple." Which is a different beast than sounding easy, but still something to sort of squint at.

Cecil looks at the pile of sweet potato he has in front of him, judges it sufficient, and put it on a baking sheet to roast with honey and some herbs.

"I don't care how close I am with my G-d, that's wholly not the point. Not for me. Gods are...not quite a dime a dozen, but more plentiful than most places, back home. It's about fitting in and being accepted and the lies we tell to get that for ourselves."