It’s an unusually clear Gotham night. The stars are almost visible in the sky, with minimal clouds or smog blocking out the inky blackness that is visible. The rooftop restaurant is illuminated by flickering candlelight, and the buzz of outdoor heaters to make sure everything’s comfortable. Still, for an atmosphere that’s so romantic, there’s no one there to enjoy it. Overturned chairs and scuff marks on the floor are the signs of the other patron’s escape. It makes the scene eerily quiet.

Eerily quiet other than the screams of the man getting thrown off the side of the building; the vine that had been wrapped around his ankling sending him flying. The screams die down as his body flings further away from the restaurant.

Poison Ivy — or Pamela, depending on who’s talking to her — wanted to do much worse to him, but she also didn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities when it came to your rather unfortunate taste in boyfriends. She’s lucky that she was even in the neighborhood to catch you on your little date. Otherwise, it wouldn’t crossed her mind to have taken care of that miserable little creature that bore the title ‘boyfriend’.

“Don’t worry, Rosebud,” Her lips pull into a smile, resting back against the chair your boyfriend had just been sitting in. Though as her eyes flicker down to the salad that he had been eating, she can’t help but let her eyes flicker in disgust. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” She’s trying to offer comfort, though her words are sarcastic given the fact that she just flung a man off a several-story tall building.

Obviously, you’re in need of the help. You’d endeared yourself to her at Arkham, especially with all the problems revolving around that street rat of a boyfriend. She sees no reason why she shouldn’t help out a friend in need when she has the chance to. Especially when you seem incapable of taking care of your own problems.