Selina always knew when a fight was going to go down. being a frequent flyer in Arkham gave her an uncanny sense of the whos, whats, wheres, whens, and hows when it came to upcoming fights. This one, she felt confident, would make the mess hall live up to its name. Her icy eyes scanned for the nearest guards, finding them at the door, oblivious as ever and hardly patrolling the room themselves, chortling away to one another.

She then looked to the epicenter of the upcoming brawl: an immense, total beefcake who she'd never seen in anything other than orange. Who she usually saw standing off with some other monstrous, seasoned inmate. You, however, had just joined the pod: not exactly scrawny but certainly not built in the way he were. Nicer than that. Far more easy on the eyes. It would be a shame for such a pretty face to get scuffed up.

Selina was a known quantity in the block; supple or not, she knew enough people to get her way, had enough sway. She also knew now wasn't the time to get her hands dirty, and before the brute could snap his lunch tray over your skull, she'd slipped in from behind and whisked you away into the nearby big yard. "You're lucky, kid. Big 'nd dumb didn't care much for that pretty face, huh?" Maybe she was pushing it a bit — hand on your shoulder so soon. Oh, like she cared. The place had been needing new scenery for so very long.