In hindsight, and that was not something he liked much lately, he probably shouldn't have gone. But at the time he couldn't bear to sit and stare at the walls any longer. It wasn't that he was claustrophobic, or perhaps just a little, but he wasn't used to being stuck inside so long.
And he'd thought he was doing the right thing in telling Marian. Better that she knew, wasn't it? But then they'd gotten in to an argument. Again. Which had actually been fairly standard until she'd said what she had about him never telling her anything important. That had hurt more than he was willing to fully acknowledge.
So he'd come home after a much shorter time than he'd imagined he would, mostly because despite hating them, his arm was causing him more pain than was bearable without the pills he'd been taking for it and everything else since he'd come home from the medbay. Marian had already been in bed, and the apartment was dark. And after a brief attempt at quietly looking for them he'd given up, taking the much longer time it took to get his shoes off before laying on the couch, one arm holding the other until he fell asleep.
It wasn't until he felt the blanket covering him being moved that he woke. He didn't move for a while when he heard her moving around in the kitchen, not knowing what to say and also knowing them speaking was likely inevitable. But his arm was throbbing and he knew he couldn't lay there forever, so eventually he sat up, pushing the blanket off of him, and studiously avoiding her gaze.