Don't Fall in Love

Poison Ivy

"-and the poison hemlock is no exception. In fact, half of Gotham's agricultural losses come from these poisonous plants on the steep foothills of-"

The television was shut off, making Ivy look up to the guard who had his finger on the TV's power button.

"Sorry, Ivy. It's lunch. They're making everyone eat together this week." The guard spoke apologetically.

"And why's that?" She asked.

"They're bringing in some schoolkids all week for a history lesson or somethin'. Go figure," the guard said.

Ivy rolled her eyes and sat up, fixing herself as she walked out of the recreation room and towards the dining hall. Here, all the patients would come together, under heavy security, to eat. She didn't enjoy the company of the brain-dead, wanna-be criminals with a penchant for murder. They were freaks. They hurt society for the hell of it.

Her devotion was to her plants. Unlike these yahoos, they gave life. If anything, her actions were creating a better world. And sometimes that takes sacrifice, she had to admit. So what if she had to dispose of a few bad eggs? They were mostly rich business men she'd seduce, the ones who made big decisions on the corporate level to hurt her babies.

She would often eat alone, at a later time. Apparently, that was too much to ask for this week.

As she walked into the dining hall, she instantly remembered what made her decide to wait until everyone else had eaten. There was no civility, no boundaries, no sense of personal space.

Especially being a seductive, gorgeous woman in an asylum where men had been torn away from society for extended periods of time...it was not ideally the safest place. But Ivy being a woman of crime herself was used to their advances and fought them off well.

At this point, no one had the balls to approach her unless they were approached by her.

And even then, they knew they were fucked.

She ignored everyone around her as she walked to the back of the room where she grabbed a tray and stood behind the last person in line. She stared at the piles of mush and deplorable garbage food before her. It made her stomach churn. One thing she missed about her freedom was the delicious food she'd get to eat. REAL meat, as opposed to what they had laid out before the patients.

"Lookie who we got here," one of the woman who stood behind the food spoke, dropping a spoonful of mashed potatoes on Ivy's tray.

Ivy recognized the woman as being another patient at the asylum, Edith. Her orange jumpsuit gave it away as well as the fact that the woman would always confront Ivy anytime she saw her. She was short and homely, and a life-time of pushing drugs had led her here. In short, Ivy knew better than to give her the attention but she was just so damn bored.

Another woman, Sarah, standing next to her scoffed and folded her arms. "It's little miss princess, the plant lady with the ass. Eatin' with the rest of us."

Ivy chuckled as she smiled coyly at the two women, holding her tray up with both hands.

"Who's dick did you stop sucking to be downgraded back into normalcy, you pothead?" Edith scoffed, spitting into Ivy's tray.

Who was she calling pothead?
Ivy chuckled, looking down at the tray and then up to Edith and Sarah, a smile taking over her face. She knew they both had severe mental issues but she couldn't let it go.

"Well, i appreciate the compliment ladies. I think we should celebrate my coming out here to eat with the rest of you peasants, shouldn't we?" Ivy asked coolly.

Edith glared back at her.

Ivy immediately let go of the tray, making it drop to the ground. She looked up at the women who seemed shocked by what she had done.

Leaning in, Ivy spoke in a low voice. "Oops. It slipped." Ivy couldn't help but grin as she turned to walk away but Sarah grabbed her. Looking back over her shoulder, Ivy was no longer smiling. Her darkened eyes found Sarah's.

"Seems you've forgotten why i'm revered around here. There is a reason they call me Poison Ivy, sweetheart."

Sarah immediately let go and backed off from Ivy, who just walked away and sat at the very end table, away from the madness of the incoherent patients.

She sighed and slumped down in her seat.

She just didn't belong here, she was the smartest one present.

"What a show! Ahahaha!" She heard the familiar voice and laughter of another source of her headache. She groaned in annoyance as she buried her head in her hands.

The Joker.

Of all the freaks and murderers and creeps Ivy had encountered anywhere, the Joker was in a league of his own.
She didn't mind his company but he'd push it too far.
"Well that's just great. As if my day couldn't get worse." She muttered as the clown sat across from her.
The joker chuckled as he pushed away his food and stared at her starry eyed.

"Pammy Pammy Pammy....how I miss you," he laughed watching her scoff at her real name.

"Well I don't miss you." She bit back.

"Always so hostile towards me," he hissed, leaning forward and keeping his stare fixed at her. "And oh, so pretty...those pretty locks..."

It had been a week since Joker had last seen the girl across his cell, also a week since he had that uncomfortable conversation with the doctor. Ever since, he had seen her twice and he had spurned her advances, which didn't sit well with her but he had no desire for the doctor. Or anything for that matter.
His mind, and whatever had been left of it, focused on the girl who had come his way.

The moment she was taken away, he wondered about her.
What was so different about her?
She had grace.
She had beauty.
She had all the qualities the plant lady possessed, and yet she was a complete mystery.

The doctor told him that she had scars. He wanted to see them. Touch them.

Would she cower at his scars? 

Why did he care? Why did he think about her?

Ivy noticed the frown on his face and smirked to herself. Bipolar disorder. Just one of the clowns problems.
Oh well. She turned away and scanned the dining hall, watching the patients shout and argue, throw food at one another. Scowl at each other.
There was no peace.

She stood up and inched away from the table without so much as a single glance to the clown. She didn't have to have lunch today. As she walked out, she heard catcalls from the joker, towards whom she turned and scowled.

The Joker turned towards the other patients, his eyes scanning over each of their faces. Not a single one of them turned up as the woman who plagued his thoughts.

Rolling his eyes, he sat there, deep in thought. It didn't matter.

She was probably dead.