"Aw man, listen to this. 'Arkham inmates at large and fleeing to Europe.' They're mobilizing a fakakta welcoming committee for us in Paris. I was so looking forward to spending a nice romantic vacation there with you."
"This new Interpol agency the Justice League initiated seems is working too quickly if you ask me."
"I didn't think small-time crooks like us would be getting in their nets, that's so not cool."
Ivy's expression indicates she's not down with being considered small-time or a crook, but it soon dissolves into something more devious. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"You know it," Harley chirps as she extracts her handbag from the overhead compartment, "strawberry ice-cream, baby." Ivy shoots her a withering look. "Just kidding. Leave it to me."
The handbag opens enough to offer Ivy a glimpse at the red-and-black contents before Harley steals off to change.
That's how, ten minutes later, they end up in the flight deck with Harley holding a gun to the pilot's head and Ivy considering alternate destinations.
"How about we head for Helsinki?"
"That's still in Europe."
"We could make our way to Russia."
"I'm afraid that's not feasible," the pilot interjects nervously.
"Let's head for Morocco!" Ivy exclaims, more excited about a detour than the actual trip. "I could study the Orchidaceae in the Rif Mountains. New taxa have been discovered there in 2010. I read a paper about it."
"We're on the lam and you're thinking about plants? Why am I not surprised?"