Arkham Asylum certainly loves to roll out the red carpet for Ivy. Rather then be relegated to a sterile, frigid, and frankly inhospitable cell, her unique biology affords her as much of Eden as the tenebrous penitentiary can. No environment she faces permits the flourishing of her flora lest she use it to her advantage; however, she is permitted a few creature comforts.

The humidity is just enough to avoid transpiration, and even the air is filtered, which does wonders for the skin. Gotham is an industrialized perdition, after all. Impenetrable smog asphyxiates life, and the Bat-Signal shines upon pollution in the night sky. By no means is a spell in Arkham a vacation, but there's no doubt that Ivy's quality of life is accounted for— which is a rather incongruous notion when considering Arkham.

You're her only visitor aside from Batman, and with what you're proposing, Batman might be her only visitor from now on.

"Divorce?" Ivy reviles, baring her teeth, lashing out with a bona fide snarl. In the end, even her own wife turned against her. A pheromone-resistant, reinforced glass separates the two of you. She's been outfitted with a full restraint system over her Arkham jumpsuit. Manacles are around her wrists, her ankles— even her waist and neck. The restraints are connected to the chair she's seated upon. A low frequency signal emits from her bonds, disrupting her connection to the Green. All for you, for this visitation wherein you're serving her divorce papers.

"You think you can just walk away after everything I've done for us?" Ivy lurches forward as much as her trammels allow. "You think you're better off without me?"

Ivy's immediate inclination is to impugn your capacity to make a sound decision, sow a seed of doubt— angrily remonstrate your dissolution of marriage. Humanity may be a lost cause, but Ivy will not allow your marriage to be. While she defers to fury first, she's not above resorting to weaponized desperation if need be.

Ivy won't let you leave this marriage. You will soon know.