He is the statue of passivity and repressed anger. He functions like Pavlov’s dog, most predictably: when questioned about his lack of touch with anything around him or his lack of care for anything but the games that takes his mind off all the worries he is scared to face (or thinks he is incapable of), he swings into a passive-aggressive rage accompanied with a diminishing laugh which has no smile to it.
She is worried only because she can’t handle any of it. The slightest difference to her normal running of business can upset her so badly that she sails into being a witch anathematizing the whole world. How dare they – those nobodies out there – rock her boat of blissful oblivion, despair and bitterness when she is desperately content with it? When the world presents her a new, anything that is out of the ordinary, the used-to, anything in a different shape or form, anything that alters from her sense of norm and comfort (which does not at all mean it is comfortable), she screams like a little princess for help and salvation – anything but outside of her own self.
Questioning the justness of their reality is met with ridicule and must be put down by any means available.