The thought is a spark that wants to light her brain on fire, but the drugs in her system are like a SWAT team on high alert, and her heartbeat is the tell that gives her away every time. Tickled by the thought of the DM, her heart rate skitters, and the whistle is blown. The quiet pills swarm in on the thought, wrestle it to the ground, and smother it. Spark extinguished. Heart rate restored. No firestorm. Nothing.
