Well, shit.

That was on him and it pissed him off - he was glad the fighting was winding down but the fact that this guy laughed at his own brother for getting injured made him angry all over again. Even though the fighting was over he strode over, grasping him by the front of the shirt and drawing up to his full height, slight as it was. Either way, he was sharp and unflinching, hand fisted in the fabric. "I'm not going to punch you because the kind bartender has put up with enough shit for one night and I don't fancy getting kicked out, but you're gonna listen to me right now. Just for a minute, then I'll be done with your time."

There's not even a slight pause - he doesn't give even a chance for there to be a reply. "You were given how many chances to stop this shit before it got bad? You kept going, though. Kept going like a moron and got your own brother hurt. That's on you, not him."

A pause and he let go, smiling placidly as he patted where he'd just been grasping. "Now, I'm gonna go buy another drink and hopefully it'll be a nice peaceful night from here on out."

Well, if nothing else he was very sure of himself. He walked back to the bar, thinking nothing of turning his back, though he was alert as ever as he leaned against the edge and gestured for another whiskey - and a beer for the guy next to him. "Sorry," he said at length, "that move made it my fault you got clocked. Let me at least get your next beer."

He didn't expect friendliness in return or even something cordial. Just an acceptance of a free beer.