"Sweetheart," Harley said in a lulling voice. "I would think using your food talents would be a good start. Just ... put a little something in one of your splendid dishes." She looked deep into Priestly's eyes, and the black swallowed up the irises again. "Dinah Lance, dead. Barbara Gordon, distraught. Is that so difficult to understand? I'm not asking you to stab her. I know she could throw you across the room before you get the chance."