"It's sweet that you assume I know anything," Miller replied, meaning it sincerely. It was sweet and he didn't deserve that kind of credit; cars were still something of a mystery to him and learning to drive one wasn't exactly high on his list of priorities.
That didn't mean he wasn't striving to do a good job. Case in point, Ray's vehicular gift. Which, according to the computer, was sitting in the lot. Waiting to be picked up.
Miller frowned at the screen, his long fingers perched over the keyboard. Then he leaned sideways and yanked out the power cord that gave the bulky monitor its juice. "One sec," he told Ray, his smile unsure. "Technical difficulties." He plugged the monitor back in and waited for the blinking cursor to turn into the usual rows upon rows of gibberish.
"Okay, here we go..." Again, he queried for Ray's 1959 Cadillac. Again, the computer informed him that it had been delivered. And was waiting. "Huh." Miller blinked back at Ray. "It's official. You're coming to work with me every day from now on. Says here you're the proud owner of a new car. Wait, there should be a key..."
It took yanking three drawers open before he found what he was looking for: a shiny metal car key just chilling among a collection of paperclips, erasers, and mechanical pencils. Miller held it up. "Eureka."