Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and AVP: Alien vs. Predator belong to their respective creators, Joss Whedon and Paul W.S. Anderson.
Charles Weyland was a tall, gaunt old man who looked at Buffy as if he could see straight through every lie she'd ever told.
"I'm glad you decided to join us, Miss...?"
"Anne," said Buffy, "just Anne."
"Anne," said Weyland. "I've heard a lot about you."
Stafford was standing behind Weyland, and she couldn't really ignore the look he gave her, a considering, sharp glance that left her feeling slightly unclean. It made her wonder, not for the first time, exactly how complete a file they had on her.
The office was in almost the exact center of the ship, with sound and pressure pushing in on it from everywhere at once. The noise of the prow breaking through thousands of pounds of arctic ice was like having rocks grinding together in the back of her skull, inescapable anywhere on the Piper Maru. Buffy adjusted her coat and sat back in her chair, weighing the odds of the infirmary having earplugs or not.
"Maxwell tells me that the terms of your employment are acceptable to you," Weyland was saying.
Buffy nodded. "Very."
There was a slight pause that put an unexpected chill down her back. Buffy looked up to see Weyland examining her.
"I understand you're also an investor," he said then, in a low voice. "In—what was it—research. A new company. Yutani? In one of their...more questionable subdivisions."
He waited. Buffy didn't know what he was expecting, or looking for.
She said, "Everybody needs a hobby."
Weyland's mouth quirked in an almost-smile. Stafford glared, irritated.
"Of course," said Weyland, sitting back. "But seriously. M-theory? MWI? That's pseudoscience, Miss—Anne. It's barely theoretical quantum physics."
Buffy...shrugged. "Maybe I just like weird stuff."
Weyland looked at her, eyes questioning. Buffy only watched.
"Maybe," said Weyland.