"A glamour," Zatanna explains, as Shayera stares at the wingless blonde in the mirror. There’s a subtle vengeance on Zatanna’s face, opposing that in Bruce’s invitation.

The masquerade is all she’s hoped. Friends and others drift by her, unangered and unafraid, and she is herself behind another mask. This freedom is worth it, even to see him here with Mari. She pretends she isn’t hurt as she avoids them.

She drinks and flirts and never gives her name and keeps her secret, until John bumps into her and brushes her back with his hand.

And then no mask will suffice.