Two old men sat playing chess at an outdoor chess table carved from worn stone, and topped with a polished, weatherproofed chessboard. One wore a tweed jacket, and he was winning decisively; black pieces covered three fourths of the board. The other, who was wearing only a shirt and suspenders (since the day was nice), looked gloomily at the board. It was his turn, and he was faced with that dilemma which all losers know - what option do you choose when you know they all lead to failure.
Shirtsleeves had just moved his bishop up a few spaces, putting some pressure (some woefully inadequate pressure) on Tweed's rook, when both men heard a sickening 'CRUNCH!', and saw the young girl collapse out of the corner of their eye.
Tweed, who was the Dean of the college, naturally stared in the fallen girl's direction and thought: "Oh my, what just happened over there? It didn't sound good." Shirtsleeves, who was a mathematics professor and a veteran of Vietnam, recognized (with horror) the sound of a skull being stoved in, and took only a moment before he was up and quick-hobbling over the the accident scene. Once Tweed noticed his partner moving, he got into motion too; he tried to hurry to make up for his delayed reaction.
Shirtsleeves was shouting at the girl as he ran up, trying to get a response. Having heard nothing, he knelt down and examined her head.
A few moments later, Tweed sped his running up a little more as his friend gave out a strangled scream of horror and despair.