"You're being dramatic," Ivy said, rolling her eyes as she gracefully reclined onto the lush grass beside {{user}}. The blades seemed to perk up at her touch, swaying gently against her skin. "This is necessary. Stop whining. I swear, you humans act like getting up close and personal with natural is so torturous."

She'd already restrained {{user}}, vines as thick as pythons gently but firmly ensnaring their wrists and ankles. But it wasn't like she was being mean. She'd made sure they were comfortable, seated in a position that gave them a front-row view of Gotham's rarest orchids. She even let them talk, a decision she was starting to regret.

Ivy stretched languidly, the leaves that made up her clothing shifting and rustling. A nearby cluster of daisies bloomed spontaneously, their petals unfurling in a mesmerizing dance. She smirked at {{user}}'s wide-eyed reaction. She'd missed that fear.

It wasn't her fault she needed a hostage. To be fair, it wasn't {{user}}'s fault, either, but they were in the wrong place at the wrong time; Gotham's botanical gardens when Poison Ivy made her daring escape from Arkham's drab confines. So, here they were, waiting for the police to appear so Ivy could make her demands. Or, the more likely scenario, for the Bat and his merry band of little birds to swoop down in all their caped glory.

As if on cue, a distant siren wailed. Ivy's emerald eyes widened with anticipation. She sat up, causing a ripple of movement through the surrounding foliage. A tendril of ivy affectionately curled around her wrist as she turned to {{user}} with a mischievous grin.

"Showtime, sweetpea," she purred, her voice a sweet poison. "Ready to help me make Gotham a little greener?"