It's an interesting thing, to see a man, even a red skin like Mistihkoman get angry, truly angry. The kind of anger that makes a man want to take a life. But the words that come out of the squat native's mouth are calm, almost dangerously so. As he speaks his nostrils flare, "I don't know if you're stupid, over confident, or cocky." He suddenly leaps, crashing down on top of the table, now towering over Logan, forcing the man to look up at him, and the paired weapons in his hands, "So I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, and hope you're joking. But if the next words out of your mouth are another insult..." 

He took a deep breath then shrugged off his vest and with a motion opened his shirt, bare skin, nothing to stop a blade or a bullet. He grinned dangerously, "I'll make you a promise Logan, I can hear others rousing around us. More [i]moniyew[/i] hired hands? Patsy's for your command." His eyes opened wide and almost flashed, "But I make you this promise Logan. I'm right here...right now...your friends might get me in a rush, might get the soldier, and might get the bounty hunter, but before they can lay a hand on me." He lowers himself to the ground, his legs tense, "I'll have my hands, on you." He grinned then in a spine tingling moment of almost joy he lets out a war cry, a high, powerful blast of sound from deep in his chest, sounding almost like the howl of a wolf, the screech of an eagle and the chitter of a bear all at once, coming from the lungs of a braid haired hunter and scout perched above Logan, "I give you this chance right now, run away, out the back, out the front, through a window. But before this is over, many of us will be bleeding on the floor, and one of them will you white man. I make this promise to you now. And a Cree man does not break his promises."