Judith wasn't falling as fast as she was before Eliot found her, but she was still on a slippery slope, and losing her footing inch by inch. She was only vaguely aware of the fact that the man whose door she'd been brought to was the Castiel Eliot had been talking about- something about healing and sliding over every other piece of the 'conversation' between that point and this. When he took her chin, she fixed her gaze on him as steady as she could- normally anyone who pushed into her personal space that way (without being invited) would've been immediately 'corrected'- but the strength wasn't there, and neither was the tell-tale flash of panic that came with other people touching her.
For some reason, she automatically believed his words without question- then suddenly they both were proven right. The pain in her hand was gone, so was the shrapnel, the traumatic split between thumb and fingers, the blood, and the haze. It was just... gone, leaving her in Eliot's arms completely whole, and very confused.
"...am I dreaming?" she asked both of them, but looked up at Eliot after he put her legs back on the floor, and she got a really good, long look at the front and back of her hand.