Judge Ye Not

People watching is a great pastime and I for one love to indulge in it as often as possible but sometimes the folk we are watching may not be quite what they seem.....    
   
She sat with her friend in the lounge of her local pub her eyes constantly flicking to the fellow at the bar talking quietly and earnestly to his male companion. People watching was Becky’s favourite pastime and here was a fascinating study if ever she'd seen one.    
   
She nudged her friend. "Look at him at the bar Sam what do you think?”    
   
“What? The geezer in the biker’s leathers talking to that scruffy bloke?”    
   
“Yes”    
   
“Dunno really, don’t fink I’d shag him though” she giggled.    
   
Becky flushed slightly “Sam!” she exclaimed, feigning shock “you can be such tart at times.”    
   
“Wocha mean?” said Sam sounding hurt “Nuffink wrong wiv a good shag mate but he’s not my type, you ‘ave a go if yer fancies ‘im.”    
   
“I wasn’t talking about sex girl" Becky gave an exasperated sigh "for god’s sake get your mind above your middle for a bit will yer?”    
   
Sam looked perplexed “Wotcha on abhaat yer dozy cow?”    
   
“Well look at his eyes I never saw pale green eyes like that before he looks real creepy like he could be a murderer or something, you know, a hit man or a rapist even.”    
   
They studied their man in silence for a moment regarding his tall lean frame. His long pale face and the broken nose above a disreputable looking moustache and stubbly chin gave him a brigand-like appearance. He looked to be in his mid forties and they both thought he could never have been regarded as good looking even in his youth.    
   
Sam spoke first “He’s bloody 'ard work to look at that’s for sure, I mean that ‘ead of ‘e’s belongs on the end of a witch doctor's rattle or a totem pole or sumfin.”    
   
“Oh for god’s sake Sam! He’s not that bad mate, a bit bashed about I suppose but not that bad.” Becky paused “His eyes look so sad, even when he’s smiling they still look sad like he's seen all the sins in the world."

"Took part in 'em more like" quipped Sam.

"Do you reckon he’s killed people?”    
   
Sam choked into her drink hurriedly replacing it on the table “Ow the fuck would I know yer silly bitch? Go an’ arsk ‘im why doncha?”    
   
Becky sighed “Those leather trousers suit him though and that bulge, wow! He looks really well hung.”    
   
Sam sat bolt upright outraged “A right cheeky cow you are Becky Judge, oo’s bloody mind iz below ‘er middle nah then eh?” she asked peevishly.    
   
Becky blushed “well he looks such a mean hard bugger I mean if he got me alone and ordered me to drop ‘em I’d be too scared to argue.”    
   
“Becky mate oo’s talkin’ like a tart nah then eh? You just like it rough you kinky little bitch, you got the ‘ot’s fer ‘im I can tell.”    
   
“No really” protested Becky “he looks a right cold evil sod, it gives me the shivers just looking at him.”    
   
“Hot flushes you mean yer dirty little....Oh gawd Becky! He’s coming over, what do we do now?"    
   
The tall man had finished his pint, said goodnight to his companion and was heading for the door when he appeared to have second thoughts and approached the girls' table. He gazed down at them for a moment as they sat terrified, totally mesmerised by the pale green ’killer’ eyes. He smiled broadly showing a row of uneven tombstone teeth.    
   
“Good evening ladies” he said his educated well modulated voice didn’t seem to belong to him “I hope you’ll excuse my approaching you like this but I couldn’t help noticing you looking at me just now and having what seemed like a very animated conversation. Is there anything I can help you with?”    
   
As the girls continued to stare into his pale green eyes they found it impossible to form a reply and merely shook their heads, their eyes like saucers.  
 
The man looked somewhat disconcerted “Really?” he queried then glancing at the table noticed their drinks were getting low “Look can I get you another drink and I’ll explain a bit about myself, fair enough?”    
   
The girls tore their eyes away from his and looked at each other still slightly dazed. Sam found her voice first “Wot d'yer reckon Becky, shall we?”    
   
Becky was recovering her wits now and decided what the hell, why not? They were in the pub weren’t they? He’d hardly try anything here and besides her curiosity was piqued.    
   
“Oh er.. yes, yes fine. I’ll have a Bacardi and coke please and Sam will have a pint of lager.”    
   
Whilst their mysterious benefactor was away at the bar the girls went into conference “Look Sam" said Becky earnestly “we’ll have one drink with him yeah? Then call a taxi, right? That way we can lose him if he tries to get fresh or anything and if he asks for your number give him a wrong one.”    
   
Sam tried to sound convincing as she said “I’ll kick iz bollocks over iz shoulder if ‘e tries anyfink on wiv either of us mate.” But inside she felt nowhere near as confident as she was trying to sound.    
   
He returned with the drinks and drew up a chair. “Now" he said "where to start?” He seemed to puzzle for a moment then said “You’re bound to have some questions about me so ask away anything you like ok?"    
   
Becky spoke first “you ride a motor bike do you?" she said then immediately wondered why the hell she’d asked such a bloody stupid question, the guy was in full leathers for god’s sake!    
   
“Yes it’s a Yamaha it’s in the car park.”    
   
“Not seen ya rhawnd ‘ere before mate we woz wonderin’ where yer from like?" asked Sam.    
   
“Oh I see, well, I used to be with the Parachute Regiment until quite recently and..”    
   
Sam jumped in “Ah, we phort you was an’ ‘ard lookin’ geezer, you bin in any wars then?”    
   
He glanced down scratching his ear “Well, er, yes, one or two I suppose. It’s what soldiers do..” his voice trailed off.    
   
He looked bemused but before he could explain further Becky asked “Where you in Afghanistan mate?”    
   
“Yes, yes I was, I did three tours altogether...”    
   
Becky’s curiosity conspired with the alcohol making her forget her manners. “And how many of the Taliban did you kill? I bet you got loads right?” she asked excitedly.  
   
He looked down at the table and appeared somewhat embarrassed “Er, actually no I didn’t kill anyone you see...”    
   
This time Sam broke in “Wot? You woz a Para, done three tours an’ yer didn’t kill any of the barstids? Fackin' unbelievable!”    
   
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair “Well why would I? That wasn’t my department you see..."    
   
“Well what woz your bleedin’ department then?” asked Sam somewhat irked.    
   
“I was the Padre, the regimental chaplain that’s why I’m here tonight to introduce myself to the locals."  
 
The girls jaws dropped open and they gawped like fish on a river bank.
 
"Didn’t you see the notice in the doorway? I'm Paul Nott the new vicar here." He slid down the zip on his jacket revealing his dog collar.