He looks awkward. And alone. Like he's not comfortable in his own skin. The only happiness you see is when he's eating - he buries his pain with food. And for the briefest moment when that blonde says something to him he lights up...he looked like he was going to beg her to talk more to him to relieve the awkwardness. And then she walked away, and though he tried to maintain the halo of the moment, it passed. And he was alone and awkward again.
A man who built this shell to protect his fragility from a harsh outside world has achieved exactly what he's wished for. No one wants him now. Isn't it fitting how, if we dedicate our lives to a goal, that we always truly get what we deserve? The road to hell is paved with best intentions.
Oh, and sons and daughters...