Anyway, Dinah spies Matt and apologizes, but since he obviously didn't get anywhere with Gabby last night, he's not as pissed as he used to be. "At least you're interested enough to look. It's sort of a compliment, in a stalkerish sort of way." He says he'll forgive her if she keeps secret his "unique and personal" dream he had about the cheerleading team that he apparently described on his PDA, and yeah, I believe a guy in high school would be concerned about people knowing he fantasizes about the cheerleading team.

At the Clocktower, on the balcony. Barbara says, "Sorry my mortal enemy turned out to be your best friend," which I have to admit was pretty good. Helena says that's the life of a crime fighter, and anyway, they're not best friends anymore, which is a pretty junior-high thing to say, if you ask me. Blah blah blah, "You miss it? Being Batgirl?" "You know, I don't think I do." Didn't we go over this a while ago? Anyway, Barbara says something about being confident about getting her Neuro-Response Whatever to work properly some day, and I'm guess by "some day" she means "by the final episode."

Back in the museum room. This place really needs some more furniture. Maybe Batgirl and Wonder Woman could be on Trading Spaces. Actually, I take that back, having recently been subjected to my first viewing of that show, and if someone can explain to me the huge popularity of that mind-numbingly boring waste of time, I'd really appreciate it. Let me summarize: "Yeah, we stenciled these big stupid anchors all over this stupid wall. They'll totally love it!" "Hey, let's paint some stupid stars and curls all over the ceiling. Cool!" Anyway, Alfred comes in, and Barbara chastises him for telling Helena she was going to fight Shiva. "Did I? Goodness, I must be going senile. I forgot it was a secret." SHUT UP, ALFRED. Barbara, all reflective, says "I'm not the hero I once was." "Thank goodness," says Alfred, who blathers on about what a mature thoughtful woman she's grown into and how she cares more for others than herself. "How do you always know the right thing to say?" she says. "Years of practice," he says, and takes off to get dinner ready. In what I guess is supposed to be a poignant moment, Barbara leaves the costume behind and turns out the lights. The party's over.