Bonnie never really cared for skirts. She was a practical person, and skirts generally weren't practical, so far as her work went (good luck hanging out of the undercarriage of a car in something that wasn't jeans or a jumpsuit). On top of that, rare was the occasion where she was required to wear one of the damn things.

The invitation never mentioned attire, but she felt something a little nicer than a jumpsuit or jeans was required. Thus the skirt and sweater combo that was driving her fucking crazy. KITT had assured her she looked nice, a sentiment she appreciated despite the fact that it did little to take the edge off her nerves. At least the day's work (updating and installing a few new data patches and subroutines for KITT) was over. Now all she had to do was wait for Michael to show up.

And speak of the Devil, there he was. "Hello, Michael," she greeted, trying to look thoughtful and distracted as she flipped through a file folder. "KITT's ready, so you can go whenever." She could only hope that would be quickly.

Of course, it was never that easy. Michael took two steps toward KITT, stopped and noticed Bonnie's attire. "You look… really nice today, Bonnie," he commented with equal parts awe and sincerity.

"Thanks," she replied, shrugging into her jacket.

"What's the occasion?" Michael pressed. Apparently, the novelty of Bonnie in something feminine had officially worn off.

"I'm locking this repair bay in one minute," Bonnie warned, "whether you've left or not." Her tone implied that she was dead serious.

"Love you, too," Michael teased before getting in KITT's driver seat and leaving Bonnie to her frazzled nerves.

• • •

Devon had just set the tea service down when his office door opened and closed, and Bonnie stepped inside, looking almost… frazzled. He offered her a warm, affectionate. "Hello, Bonnie."

"Hi, Devon," Bonnie replied, slipping out of her jacket. The smile she gave him in return was a sheepish one. "Sorry I'm late—some of KITT's patches took longer than I thought they would."

"I understand," Devon replied, waving a hand dismissively. Far be it from him to reprimand Bonnie's punctuality given her dedication to her work. Admittedly, it one of the many reasons he loved her so. "Please, have a seat."

Bonnie hung up her jacket, the tattered and oil-stained nylon windbreaker a stark contrast against Devon's dark brown tweed coat, and joined him at the sofa and its low coffee table. She tried not to let on how much the tea service intimidated her. She loved Devon, and had gladly accepted his invitation, but she was a coffee drinker and as such, felt very out of place.

Devon sat next to her and started to pour the tea into one of the two china cups. "I know you take your coffee with cream and sugar," he commented, passing her the first of the two cups, "but how would you like your tea?"

Bonnie held up her hands in a passive gesture. "What do you recommend?" she asked.

"Lots of sugar," he replied instantly, smiling warmly.

"…Hot iced tea?" she questioned.

The look Devon gave her in response was one of mock offense. "Not quite," he answered, stirring a spoonful of sugar into his tea and passing her the cup. "Try this."

She took the cup but didn't drink from it. "Are you sure?"

"Go ahead," he insisted. "I'm past the age of caring about cooties." The smile he offered her now was affectionate, teasing.

Bonnie returned the smile, muttering something about Devon being a smartass before taking a small sip of the tea. There was a blend of unidentified spices with the tea itself (likely the loose leaf that Devon so favored), as well as the sweetness of the added sugar. Overall not an entirely unpleasant combination, and she told him so.

"Better than iced tea?" Devon asked, accepting the teacup once more.

"Much," Bonnie agreed, spooning some sugar into her teacup.

"Better than coffee?" he teased before taking a sip of tea.

"I wouldn't go that far," she denied with a bemused grin as she stirred the sugar into her tea.

"Americans have no taste," Devon said pointedly, looking over at her with a teasing glint in his eye.

"Look who's talking," she teased in return. "What do you have against coffee anyway, hmm?"

"It's never been what my family drank," Devon answered. "You know that."

"And I've never drank tea," Bonnie continued. "Now we're even."

They teased each other for a few more moments before falling into a comfortable silence, broken only by the clinkof china cups on saucers. After a moment, Devon spoke again, words soft and sincere. "Thank you for coming, Bonnie."

"I couldn't bring myself to say no," she replied truthfully. "Thank you for the invitation."

He smiled and reached over to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "The invitation always stands, you realize?"

Bonnie smiled and leaned her hand into his touch. She probably wouldn't start drinking tea as religiously as he did, but she was probably going to start drinking it more often.