As Urien and the little girl entered the office, the girl sat down nervously in a chair. Urien took his seat and gave her a gentle look.
"Now, let's get to the point," Urien explained calmly, addressing her as kindly as he could. "Could you tell me your name first?"
The little girl nodded quickly with a nervous motion and said, "F-Frieda, Frieda."
"You have a lovely name, Frieda," Urien said warmly, trying to ease her nerves. It seemed to work, as Frieda visibly relaxed.
"Now, we're going to talk privately. Why didn't your mother come?" Frieda hesitated for a moment but didn't want to keep him waiting too long. She answered quickly, "My mom's sick. She works a lot and gets tired easily. Her body's weak, so she falls ill quickly."
"I see," Urien nodded, not wanting to distress her further, and moved past the topic. He then took some paper and a pen from the corner of his desk.
"How old are you?"