#bulletshelled

      Even though Ivy’s greenhouse looked like it was nothing, it was layer upon layer of defences and offences- all ready to keep people out, and the younger plants and Ivy inside protected. Even without some of these deadly plants at work though, it wouldn’t be easy to get in- wood stronger than a blade, vines tangled and ready to grab anything that came through the gaps.. just to name a few. The only person who could easily come and go was Poison Ivy herself, or.. the blonde that showed up at the door.       Without even needing to knock, a vine unlocked the door and the jungle parted.. allowing a clear path right towards where Ivy had her lab set up. The ginger was in the middle of cooking up something, and did not notice she had a guest in till she heard the tulips sing. 

❛ everybody’s got a WEAKNESS, ❜ perhaps it rolls off the tongue particularly TOO easy. perhaps it’s too CASUAL considering the anomaly in front of him. if there’s anything a mortal can do to peak his interest, it’s dressing up like a clown and showing themselves to him. ❛ so what can UMBRA do for you? ---- please do tell me you sent yourself my way. it’d be a shame if you’re just a messenger. ❜

for @leftsilent they’ll be brothers !!!

Cat drums her fingers lightly along the edge of the table, metal offering a nice little reverberation through the stifling, chipped walls of GCPD as she levels an unassuming glance towards the reason she’s here. It’s an interrogative stance--something she’s certain she’s far more effective at than the idiots who occupy the place and get paid for it--but ultimately casual as her fingers stop their casual assault on the smudged surface. 

Two seconds pass before she snaps open the clasp of her purse and dip long fingers into it to retrieve a wipe, waxing on and waxing off the surface of both her side of the table and a ratty little metal chair before sitting down with a hum. Three more items are retrieved in short order (likely because they hadn’t bothered to take her purse from her, which is good, because her phone is a key part of both her mental and physical health, it would be like taking insulin from a diabetic. Who made millions of dollars with their insulin and changed the world with a flick of a finger. It’s not one of her best similes): 

A pad. A fountain pen. A recorder.

A singular push sends a pulsing red light through the small little room.

"Hey... Shops not closed up quite yet." Her hands flipped the 'Closed' sign back around and she smiled kindly. "I can keep here open a while longer, and you look like you could use a hot drink."

"If you'd like?"