The bubble itself seems to relax around her, expanding back to its default size now that Ruka isn't forcing its constriction, but it doesn't seem to help her at all. She's trying to calm her breathing down, out of its hyperventilation pace, closing her mouth and holding her breath for moments to try again.

With her hands in the puddle, the blood soaks and saturates the fabric of her long gloves, and climbs up the pale fabric. Like mercury in a thermometer, the red keeps moving higher. When Ruka finally catches that Karkat's talking to her, she lifts her chin to look his way, but her face is pale with weariness and splotchy red with exertion (and smears of blood; there's just so much of it). Behind Karkat and behind the red wall she can make out the figure of a man in a suit, dark cloth and pale complexion, but she can't make out any features of his face. Her head drops, shaking side to side, and she closes her good eye.

"You're safe," she says, her voice rasping and uneven. "So... it's fine."