Spike, Dora
"It isn't so much that I don't want, as I'd be more of a hindrance than an asset. My work is more ... subtle than charging in with blazing guns," she admitted. That, and she had nothing to make any sort of poison with. Even if she did, it might not get done in time. Granted, Iridia could do her dirty work for her, but the idea of someone putting hands to him to stop his attack didn't exactly fill her with glee. She'd rather not be passing out if someone grabbed him, so she'd rather not expose herself to the risk of it.
"I would assume permanence, but if you'd rather take hostages for questioning, who am I to protest?" Dora quipped. "There's also the fact to consider there may well be a dozen armed men waiting below decks who just haven't shown themselves yet. Insurance, or what have you. Especially if this isn't a real rescue. Especially if they know what we can do." We. They. Whichever.
She wondered if he'd really do this, and she wondered if she should be horrified that she was more amused than not. But to her, their rescuers were little different than their captors at this point. They'd done nothing yet to prove they were on the up and up, on the right side. Perhaps killing them was a little preemptive and would result in some 'oops, that was wrong of me' feelings later ... but four months as a captive didn't exactly make her feel very generous toward strangers claiming to rescue them and knowing perhaps a bit too much about their situation.
"You're the one with more knowledge on this situation, I think," she admitted.