Ch 1:
Meagerly he observed the clock gently tick to itself along the wall.
A shabby clock if truth be told. One he had grown rather fond of. Some sort of hand-me-down Michael had found among the bunch of boxes from the last tenants who had inhabited this cottage gently settled at the far back of the mansion property.
The clock wasn't a showpiece in any way or another but it held distinct details that Kitt could pick up on that made it ironically very special… Among them, the etched initials GK which Kitt presumed belonged to Garthe Knight. And as unsettling as it was — Kitt had found that there was nothing to fear from a simple clock that'd belonged to a war-mongering maniac who'd ceased to exist long ago. Nothing to fear even if the title was worth several shudders from his motherboard.
Of course, Michael was not aware of these initials. If so the clock would have disappeared long ago — and in several pieces for sure. On behalf of him, Kitt had no intention of letting Micheal know. It was just a clock, and it got the job done. What would be the point of getting another if it did just the same job?
In truth, Garthe had never inhabited this cottage. All records said so, but one way or another the clock had made its way to the cottage, probably disposed of quickly by Garthe as it had in all likelihood not made much use to him. What would a war-monger use a clock for anyway, other than a decorative piece in an office? Check the time most likely but everyone did that…nothing special there.
In contrast, even when he was equipped with a chronometer of his own Kitt made good use of this clock…Kitt had gotten keen on manually checking the clock occasionally. At the moment, his quick glance toward the far wall, however, was not giving him much good news…
Disappointedly he noted that the hour was late and the hours were thinning.
Far past the "prior" agreed time.
He grumbled to himself.
Letting his exasperation escape in quick sweeps of warm air from under his undercarriage, making the room steam with heat. Fortunately, Michael had left the window nearby open before he'd left, allowing for the occasional gust of wind to greet the somewhat bewildered Pontiac with a cool brush over his dark skin and ease some of his anxiety.
Of course, it wasn't always enough, the wind sometimes completely absent; perhaps also busily attending to some love interest of its own. Kitt grumbled again, another burst of hot air escaping the engine bay and sweeping dust bunnies across the garage floor — the birds paying no mind; chirping somewhat satisfied from above the canopies.
The sun was out, gleaming over the feather-light tops of cotton-ball-like clouds lazily traveling across the sky. Perfect for a run through the desert; an occasional turbo boost mixed in with a few well-calculated turns. A game of trivia, a pleasant chat, overall shenanigans, the list could go on — this day was going to waste!
Kitt was less than amused — Something that made him grieve the lonely silence more and loathe his choice of allowing Michael to get his way.
At first, the plan hadn't seemed that complicated — nor that wild; it seemed safe — should have been. But there was no backup plan to fall back on; a red flag if Kitt ever saw one. Yet he had not complained.
The conjecture was Micheal had no intention of completing his bargain — The placement of a "curfew" was ineffective…and had obviously not worked. Kitt gazed at the clock along the far wall, fixing his gaze for the longest time. Watching the agonizing flow of seconds, minutes and future hours go to misuse.
Michael would return when he felt like it. That was how it would go. No further examination of the odds was necessary as Kitt knew Michael enough to know that this would be the far likeliest outcome.
He grumbled again. Another gust of balmy air escaped his engine bay, a flutter of dust bunnies colliding with the washer machine and dryer, probably pitying his display of sulking.
The birds idling by the window sill took flight, startled by the growling and grumbling Trans-am that simply could not be soothed.
'I can't believe this.' Kitt muttered to himself. Unable to fathom why Michael could be so insensitive so as to not come through with their agreement!
His thoughts flew and fell. Some ranged from sheer anger to mild annoyance. It was a mystery how his processor could handle all of these at once but he'd grown over the years and he figured his humanity had developed just enough that he could least dwell on this predicament for a few hours longer until he'd have to allow his processor some ease to cool off and archive the daily doings of the day. He just hoped Michael would show up before his mandatory downtime when he'd be unable to express his full wrath and voice his complaints.
He internally relaxed.
'Downtime.' He mumbled.
In essence a nap; sleep.
Sleep sounded soooo tempting…This day was an overall waste, may as well allow his mind to move forward and attend to the problem at hand quickly.
— But…Did he really want to give off the impression that he'd simply "slept" off this problem?
Most likely Michael would assume that it hadn't really been "a big deal" if he came home to find the Trans-am dozed off in the garage.
— Oh, but it was a VERY big deal!
Something worth a complaint! And a severe talking too.
Kitt shuddered over his treads. Going over the prior (omitted) plan, some logic hit his circuit boards in a somewhat delayed train of thought.
He couldn't help but feel to some degree, ashamed, actually.
His odds calculator, helpfully, let him know that this wasn't that "big" of a deal realistically. He'd gone through lots worse — and what's more, this wasn't life or death.
Didn't change the fact he was feeling rather crossed.
Yes, Michael should have kept to his word — but could that really be feasible? Had Kitt lied to himself? Probably—
If he'd been in Michael's shoes he supposed that he too would have wished to stay longer by Bonnie's side. Let the hours go by and enjoy her company under the warmth of the sun for all eternity.
He could always call the restaurant Kitt thought, ask how they were doing and perhaps hint to his discomfort, but then that would interrupt whatever they were speaking of now and they'd planned this day several weeks prior as Michael's and Kitt's schedules continued to get rather complex and rather lengthy. As of late it was getting far more difficult for Bonnie and Michael to get together aside from the constant checkups Kitt needed from Bonnie. During those times it was rather difficult to have meaningful conversations and grow closer.
Kitt winced.
'Grow closer.'
A sudden weight landed on his shock absorbers…threatening to sink him to the floor. He let out a low whistle from his fading scanner. Thinking of the future. Something he didn't like to do too often. His odds calculator could only do so much to know what could or might happen in certain situations but it was far less useful about future hurdles in life — The countless difficulties Kitt would have to somehow overcome either on his own or, the more suitable scenario, accompanied by Michael. Frankly, he sometimes couldn't imagine NOT being Michael's car…It was just something engraved into his mind, something he doubted would ever disappear. He supposed he was programmed that way or having spent his entire life having known one driver he'd become greatly attached to the man.
Whatever the case; change was inevitable…and he'd either needed to "sink or swim".
He opted for "swimming" in this case. He waited patiently for his mind to paint a picture of what that might look like but it wasn't the most clear and his odds calculator, as usual, wasn't the most useful yet again.
— It simply was coming. There was no way around it.
Kitt knew it, just as sure that there was a slight "itch" in one of his relays. He wasn't ignorant or naive enough not to realize what would become of Michael's and Bonnie's relationship.
Marriage.
— It was no mystery just a matter of time.
He just hoped he'd not be left at the mansion "for good" and rather…be part of the adventure that was beyond the scope of their dangerous careers, even if it meant leaving the comfort of the Trans-am.