Dream logic, it makes everything make sense. From her own perspective, she had been there the entire time, though since she has a not very clear idea of how these sort of things work, her own memories of the event are fuzzy and probably wildly unrealistic. Much more like a cowboy standoff than a drug deal.

In any case, that's not the important part. She gives Meyer an irritated look of her own, folding her arms over her chest. "Guns are very much not my style, Mr. Meyer, and you won't find me using one." She scans the room, however. "I can be of use otherwise. If you see a tear that could be useful, tell me."

You remember tears, Meyer - there are several throughout the room, varying from guns to medical kits to, in the corner, a very large mechanical president with a very large gun. Her own memories seem to have not have much problem sneaking into Meyer's dream, anyway.