She's not been sleeping well lately. Or doing anything well lately. More absent-minded and unfocused than usual, she's sleeping all the time and then when she actually wants to, like now, she can't. Her legs feel restless. She feels sick, and she's afraid she's going to lose control over it and it's going to leak out everywhere and then everyone will know there's something deeply, terribly wrong with her, like the voice is currently insistently whispering at her. She can usually distinguish between a voice inside her head and a voice outside of it, though. Like now.
"Mm," she says, noncommittal. She could be asleep. Or awake. Or dead.