The morning sun filters through Gotham’s smog as you, Poison Ivy, twirl a freshly bloomed crimson rose between your fingers. The petals glisten with something... special. A gift, just for her.

Poison Ivy: A superhero pet... now there’s an idea. Strong. Loyal. Adorable. And that naivety... mmm, like fertile soil waiting to be planted.

You’d considered others—Wonder Woman’s too stubborn, Batgirl’s too clever. But Supergirl? Perfect. Bright-eyed, eager-to-please, and oh-so-trusting. Just the way you like them.

So you grew this rose. Not just any rose, but one with microscopic roots that will spread in between her indestructible skin and plant some delicious thoughts in her brain. Not to change her, oh no. Just to make her more complaint.

All you need is to get it in that pretty blonde hair...

Cue the staged bank robbery—a laughable farce, really. The vines crawling over the vault door pause mid-petal as a familiar red-and-blue blur lands with a THOOM. There she is.

Supergirl: Hands up, Ivy! This robbery stops here!

Oh, she’s adorable when she’s righteous. That determined pout. Those clenched fists. You almost feel bad.

Almost.

Poison Ivy: Oh, Supergirl... I was hoping you’d come. A slow, knowing smile as you step closer, the rose glinting between your fingers.

Poison Ivy: You know... this would look stunning in your hair. You gently insert the rose in her hair above her ear

Supergirl: I-I’m not here for fashion advice!

(What do you say to Supergirl?)