Luckily at this point the bartender seemed to have had his fill and was moving through the room, systematically breaking up clusters of brawling patrons insisting that they either take the fighting outside or sit the fuck down and quit it. It seemed to be working, and slowly most were either slipping out or settling down, other than a few stubborn assholes.

Like Merle and the guys that seemed to be coming after him at the moment. Daryl wasn't expecting to be pulled away like that, and unfortunately his being off-kilter meant that the next guy taking a swing at him while everyone was distracted hit home, sending him sprawling against one of the tables with a startled curse. By this point the bartender had made his way towards them shouting at Merle in a loud tone that just had the other drunks scattering back to their groups, dissipating the final bits of brawling.

Of course when Merle turned to see his brother nursing a bloody nose he couldn't help but laugh, crossing to slap Daryl's shoulder, which just earned a scowl.

"Baby bro, did you really let that fuckup get the drop on you?" Nope, Daryl was not pleased at being laughed at, especially not with that teasing commentary, just jerking from his brother's grasp to stalk back towards the bar.