Masks are curious things. They are used to veil and protect, serving as barriers to both gaze and disease. No matter their use, they reveal the inner workings of those that don them.
A nest of masks wraps Jenny’s head, binding the face in layers of obscuring fabric, leather, and plastic. Only the eyes remain, burning and critical. Her leer conveys that any attempt to reveal more would be futile, met only by more layers, an onion of multiplicity. Take her as she is, this outermost shell is all you deserve.