[There are tears starting in her eyes as she shakes her head in protest, but when he pulls out the gun she sucks in her breath, too shocked to scream. She starts to back away, not looking away from Arthur and grasping blindly for something she can use to defend herself. Ridiculously enough, the first thing that comes to hand is a pillow, cross-stitched with flowers. She clutches it in front of her like as shield.]

I'm not a projection, Arthur. I'm real. I'm me, I'm Mal, and I'm your friend. [Her voice cracks.] You told me yourself this wasn't Limbo, when I first came here. And I didn't believe you for so long, but now—Don't you remember?