That was about all Jesse was going to try to reason with anybody. Even when it was somebody that he'd unintentionally hurt and genuinely felt bad for. He'd given Wash two chances now to stand down and had only met with more violence.
Now there was a stool coming at his face.
Jesse stopped the wood from connecting with his forearm and grabbed a hold of a leg, jerking it toward himself. He used this to hurtle the other side of his body forward, fingers clinched in a tight fist. It was, honestly, not the hardest punch that he could have thrown, but he just wanted to show Wash how much he didn't want to fight this particular man, not do a lot of actual damage. Bruises were good, broken cheek bones were not.
He didn't even lash out in anger, it was more frustration. Jesse hoped that this would stop the fight. If it didn't, though, well... one of them wouldn't feel so hot in the morning, and it wouldn't just be due to booze.