Those pale eyes trail along him as he wanders around, looking, although her attention is more on the remaining baked goods that he still holds. She'll bide her time for the moment, waiting until he is closer, before going for them again, but she otherwise remains standing there, a small pool of stagnant water forming around her hooves.

If a horse can look dubious, Padmé does. Then again, Anakin is moving before she can even react, the canvas resting upon her back. Yet it doesn't just rest upon it, but also starts to stick to her tacky skin.