The smile in Daryl’s direction, however faint seemed to have the man uncertain what to do with himself, settling for scowling at his beer like it had done something to him, though there wasn’t any real bute or anger to the expression. Just a man who was very bad at emotions and expression thereof, including when others were expressing them at him. He didn’t say a word, but when his brother pushed away from the bar, the younger man followed, a few paces back. Not crowding Merle as he stalked after the man who’d shorted him, but not far enough away that he couldn’t help if things went to hell too quickly.

The stranger sticking his nose into things when fists started flying?

Definitely not appreciated if the way Merle and his victim scowled at him was any hint.

“Why don’t you just mind your own business there, yeah?” Merle drawled, grabbing the man he’d been moments earlier pummeling, arm around his shoulders in a vice grip. “Joe an’ me got some business and it don’t involve you.”