Donald's reflexes were much sharper than they had been, and his gun was already pointed at the Wolverine before the man had finished his first sentence. Mjolnir gleamed brightly, even in the dull light of the White House, its etched barrel almost immediately feeling rather inadequate against the abilities of a superhero. It had helped him in the battle, but...well, nobody he'd shot was able to heal quite so quickly. He quickly tucked the weapon back into its holster by his hip, with an apologetic glance.
He was back, trying to gauge Charles' injuries by the time Logan spoke again. He kept his head down, hoping that nobody saw his split-second grin. "A shame," he said automatically. "Nobody deserves to die, no matter what they've done. We can go over that in a moment or two, but first...we need to get you somewhere secure, Charles. I don't suppose your wheelchair is handily sitting around for us?"
He had scanned the scene for it the milisecond Donald had first spotted Xavier, and seen nothing recognizable. That didn't mean it wasn't here, but it seemed unlikely. Whoever... "Who did this, X?" He looked to Logan as well, far more concerned with the Professor's well-being than he'd ever thought he might be.