Wolverine was stationed on top of a high rising wood pole. He wore his pants and his tattoos, and scars from times he ended on the wrong side of the boomstick. He looked down at the man with the funky looking hair and squeezed his eyes toying around in his mind what he would do, should do, will do. 

From high atop his perch he brought his arms parallel together and pushed out his indestructible metal claws and lunged down at Funky Hair-Do. He was aiming for the gunslinger's chest. He wanted to drive his steel claws into the gunman. He had his eye open and his ear attuned to gun sounds, and he was ready to dodge Funky Hair-Do's bullet thrower if he botched the stake party.