Shae had recovered just in time to catch the tail-end of the scuffle, and his eyes widened as the blonde skip collapsed face-first onto the billiard table. Part of him was impressed at his young companion's initiative, but the other part, well...
"Da fuck you t'inking, comin' at 'im wit' a goddamn bottle? Dat' a lawsuit jes' waitin' ta happun!" he barked, completely ignoring the younger man's question. He muttered a few choice words under his breath and pressed a hand over his aching ribs, gingerly testing the area; after a brief examination, he determined that nothing was broken and moved to the unconscious man. By this point they'd gained the attention of every other patron in the bar, including the bartender who looked to have a phone in his hand with a finger on speed dial.
Time for a little damage control.
Shae sighed and cuffed both of Parmer's limp wrists together, gesturing at Ren to keep an eye on the man as he snagged his wallet from the table. "Watch him. When I git back, you' gon' help me put dat deadweight in mah car. You broke it, you' gon' fix it." With that said, he spun on his heel and hurried over to the bartender, offering up his badge and ID as he tried to explain the situation and reassure the man that police involvement was unnecessary. Fuck all if he'd give up the bounty on a month's worth of work.
After several minutes of intense discussion, Shae returned to his very confused and vaguely distraught-looking new partner in crime prevention. Alright, so...maybe he'd been a little rough on the kid. "Hey Ren, loop yo ahm t'rough his an' grab 'im undah da ahmpits," he ordered, though his tone was far less harsh than it had been.