"Um, I'm not sure what it was they put on me," Megan leaned back and closed her eyes again. "It smells interesting though. What color is it, maybe that'll give me a hint."
She listened to Molly and hadn't quite figured out exactly how that brain of hers was working. She could get the gist of what she meant, but she sure had a roundabout way of getting to the point. "I don't think I'm Welsh," she said, a little confused. "I'm whatever Henderson is, actually, although Grandma claimed that her dad had been Native American." From what she could tell it sounded like Hurricane Molly was a painter. She had no experience with that at all, so she decided to leave that well enough alone.