Usually, he would abhor being stuck at home—left to wallow in his own devices and toil with bouts of loneliness. In most cases, after a long and uneventful day at work, he would almost always migrate towards some location that contained many different people- faceless identities sharing a common action. A bar, a park, a carnival, almost any place that, for him, masqueraded as a festive gathering ground for the broken and the left behind. He would desperately crave the contact of others, to relate with them and to talk with them. Being immersed in the vicinity so many others enjoying healthy social lives almost robbed him of as much of the bitter contentment as it offered. He wanted to be approached casually like anyone else, to show more sides of his personality that his position and work would have little room for. From being surrounded by so many attending to their routine lives gave him a false sense of "fitting in" so to speak; he wanted to form bonds; he wanted to make many friends. But because of his stature and status as king, most potential candidates for such wished to limit their interactions with him out of fear and misunderstanding. He had accepted it as the way things were just to be; his outer appearance may tend to suggest he was fine with it; internally, he was cracking.