Facelift looks down at Spectrum.
"Come on, man," he hisses to her, "I thought we had a thing going- >sigh<, whatever..."
Dejectedly, Facelift lowers his cannon, and the three neutrals relax.
"Now," the four-armed one says. "We're not after you're money, Facelift, and we certainly aren't under the employment of any gangsters- you'd be hard-pressed to find any on this planet."
Facelift's eye squints- the closest thing he could manage to raising an eyebrow.
"...Then what did you snatch me for?" he asks, confused.
"Believe it or not, we need your medical knowledge, doctor," the four-armed neutral says.
There is a moment of silence, as Facelift attempts to process what he had just been told.