Spike considered explaining that he might not really have nine lives, that humans didn't usually come with more than one in his world, but decided against it. After all, he was completely convinced that he'd died at least once in the past and there was no concrete proof that he hadn't died again. Who was to say he didn't have nine - or more - lives? He figured it was safe enough not to correct the statement. Besides, it didn't sound any more or less believable than the technical theory he had regarding his own death - singular or plural, depending upon his mood.
Iridia's lack of concern for Dora's brain was amusing; Spike couldn't help but to chuckle in response. "I imagine his biggest concern is that I don't eat his brain," he quipped, smirking slightly. "Lucky for both of you, I haven't had any cravings, yet. I think the new girl sneaked a few brains into dinner."
Unfortunately, for all of the fun of pretending he might be a zombie, the more-pressing matter... was far less pleasant. In fact, it was downright grim, in his point of view. Too many possibilities, not enough certainty.
"I..." Spike sighed, not bothering to hide it behind a scoff as he usually did. "I wouldn't know, really." He was fairly certain his eyes were both in tact, and that would certainly be his first worry when dealing with crazy scientist types; but that wasn't an automatic clean bill of health.
"Nothing worse than a headache, no bruises that I've seen..." And he'd certainly thought to check as well as he could. Between past experience and the videos, his mind had gone directly where Dora's seemed to be. "Got too many scars to be sure on that, but... nothing seems new."
He brought both hands up to pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment or two then slid his hands down his face. "A little certainty would go a long way," he muttered, keeping his voice as low as possible while still ensuring Dora could hear him.