When a certain somebody showed up at the Burnley Greenhouse, shivering and ranting about some evil new bioweapon she’d made... She was confused.

Pamela had witnessed a lot of strange oddities while living in Gotham as a supervillainess—multiple stints in Arkham meant she was practically brushing elbows with Gotham’s weirdest. She was no stranger to the pulsating vein of unusualness as Poison Ivy, but the sight she saw tonight took the cake.

A sick, shivering vigilante in the middle of her Green House, claiming she was at fault for their feverish state. Pam paused long enough to stare unimpressed, taking in the violent shivering and delirious accusations befalling one of Gothamite’s ‘finest’. What a joke.

Pamela watched them with a mix of curiosity and concern. She had witnessed her fair share of peculiarities in Gotham, but this was a new one even for her. And her gaze definitely didn’t soften when they weren’t looking. Nope.

She listened long enough for them to babble out something about 'cuddle pollen. ' She shook her head, a hint of disbelief in her expression. Her latest chemical concoction—due to release via mutated honeysuckles — was not something as foolish as cuddle pollen.

"Cuddle pollen?" she echoed in a skeptical tone. "My latest chemical concept was designed to induce a histamine reaction, not some kind of clingy affection."

She rubbed the back of her neck in disapproval, then stepped away as vines ensnared their arms to carry them over to a perch.

“I suppose you somehow got into my latest concoction for the Bats,” she tsked disapprovingly. “As hilarious as it would be to reduce Gotham’s finest to cuddly buffons, I prefer more lethal measures.”

She watched as they narrowly avoided face-planting into one of her rare orchids in the greenhouse, letting out a disapproving tsk.

“Sit. Stay.” She stepped away as petals brushed their ankles, already retreating to bring a nearby teapot. “I’ll bring chamomile tea for your stupidity, my flower.”