"Look...Mr. Powell..." Angela started as she followed Powell down the hallway.
"'Ashton,' please, Angela," Powell called back over his shoulder with an insistent smile. Angela sighed inwardly, a bit put off at his familiarity in what she hoped would stick to a business relationship despite his attractiveness, but continued, as something was piquing her curiosity.
"Look, Ashton...I get that you prefer men, that makes no-nevermind to me," Angela hesitated, but went on. "But then...why bother with having me try out for the position? I mean, you'll know I'm a woman, whatever costume or prosthetics I wear. It's not like it'll change what I really am. Why not just hire a man instead?" As Powell was walking in front of her, she could not make out his facial expression, but his response seemed extremely mirthful.
"Oh, the same thing over and over can get a bit dull, you know?" Powell chuckled good-naturedly. "It helps to keep things interesting, otherwise what's the point?" Angela had no idea what kind of point he was trying to make, but figured Powell was one of those rich eccentrics who had too much money for their own good and spent their time trying to amuse themselves. Either way, all she had to do was act like a guy for a while, then once she'd scrounged together enough dough, she'd be off to find a real job. The stairway Powell turned into was narrow and somewhat dim, so Angela carefully kept her eyes on the steps as she clutched the railing on her way down. Which was why she didn't actually get a look at the basement until she was on flat ground again.
"What the..." Angela murmured under her breath as she frowned at the large dark room. While the rest of the house looked like your typical modern mansion, the basement looked like a dungeon out of the Middle Ages, stone floor and walls, and unlit torches barely visible in the sconces. Squinting uneasily at her host, Angela wondered if she would be better named Alice at this point.
Walking to the center of the room, Powell reached down and tapped the floor with one hand, and Angela blinked at the sudden influx of light. However, the light was not coming from a bulb or a window, or even the torches. Rather it was coming from a strange pattern glowing on the floor, ceiling and walls. Angela could not make sense of it, but it looked like some sort of funky art project. This guy has some weird tastes, she winced, wondering if she was too quick to be enthralled by the large salary.
"Well now, it'd be a waste to ruin such lovely clothes," Powell turned to Angela and looked her up and down, before going to a shelf and pulling out a folded cloth, which he shook out to show her a long dark robe. "Why don't you put this on instead, and we'll get started?"
Angela gingerly took the robe, getting more suspicious of her new employer by the minute, but as it seemed to be more of a personal quirk than a prelude to something nefarious, Angela pulled the robe over her head. Fumbling around under it, she managed to remove her clothes, and as Powell instructed, even her underwear and shoes.
"What exactly does this have to do with me dressing up as a man, Mr.-...I mean, Ashton?" Angela asked as Powell directed her to stand in the exact center of the room, and he retreated to the wall with the shelf, from which he pulled what looked like an old leatherbound book. Flipping it open, he smiled at her.
"Well, we have to make you a man first! Don't worry, the magic won't hurt a bit!" Powell grinned. For a moment, what he said didn't register, so Angela stood there mute as Powell read some strange words in a language she couldn't identify from the book in his hands.
"Wait, what do you mean magic-?!!"
At that instant, the markings on the floor, ceiling, and walls all exploded with light, blinding Angela and cutting her off.