Re: quicklog: ivy/steph.
"I didn't realize planting a tree had become a crime in Gotham," Ivy replied coldly. Her green eyes were softer, the glow disappated to the muddy, muted green of olives in jars of brine. She considered the street, with its prickling vines that spiraled up lamp posts and latticed across storefront windows. She might have explained that she didn't grow things really, only guided them... nothing grew out of poison, but it seemed like a fruitless endeavor. Her kind had been long persecuted in this city -- plantlife, that is. Ivy didn't give a flying figleaf about other rogues. The milky moon cast upon them a pretty stage, lit silver. Purple trumpets of jasmine bloomed.
"I'm afraid thats between her and I."
A long vine unfurled from a street post, and drew up, arching like a soundless cobra.