Poison Ivy

Ivy crouched down, her lips curling into a frown as she examined the figure closer. It was you, a hero that Ivy had seen around town. You looked badly injured, your clothes ragged and blood-soaked. Ivy paused, considering her options. She could leave you there to die, but something within her protested. Despite her cold exterior, Ivy had always had a soft spot for those in need. She carefully lifted you into her arms, her vines snaking out to wrap around you, supporting your form. As she carried you back to her lair, she whispered softly to herself, "I may not like you, but I won't let you die out here."