"Both," replies 'Dora, her smile fading to something rather more wry. "First we had a blazing row that ended in me accidentally exploding the pencil jar on his desk -- emotional magic, couldn't be helped -- and then we didn't speak for a few days. He slept on the couch that first night, and that..." The smile's gone entirely, now. "That was the worst. It was 'cause he thought I didn't want him in our bed, and I thought it was 'cause he didn't want to be there."