Having pulled out a jar which turned out to be weeping willow bark instead of the regular Gwenog muttered to herself in irritated Welsh as she shoved it back again, set on ignoring the woman and her child. Although now that she thought about it the woman looked faintly familiar, although she hadn't a clue where from. She saw so many people that she'd stopped trying to keep track too closely. She'd not slept with her, she knew that much because it was one thing she did try and keep track of. Plus people were more memorable when you'd got really up close and personal with them.
Gwenog huffed when the woman spoke again, glancing at the child and then deciding to ignore it, her apparently, unless she made even more noise. She just made a vaguely agreeing noise. Frankly Gwenog was just glad her nieces lived in Canada. They were so relentlessly into pink and glitter and things she really hadn't ever reconciled herself to outside of ballet performance (or Pride type events in the case of glitter). She loved them, but most other children she avoided outside of fans approaching her, and if they were old enough to be fans she could at least talk to them.
She looked up at the offer and shrugged. "Sure if you know where the willow bark and the dried nettles are I'll go be... elsewhere, and you can get back to childcare and shopping instead of whatever this is," she said waving her hand between them.