“I’m having trouble nailing down your character,” Marcus prays.
“I need you in the book; to leave You out of the world would be false, and blasphemous. But a character without flaws is of no service to a narrative. Can I depict You as flawed?”
Your depiction of Me, comes the dry answer, will be flawed by its very nature.
“But see what I’ve done just now!” says Marcus. “Assigning You a sense of humor.”
Yes. Humor is a defense: a reaction to injury.
“Have I injured You?” asks Marcus. “Can I?”
There is no answer that he perceives.