Because chairs made of fire would be even less comfortable.
[That's all Sheryl gets in the way of greeting, before Pidge comes trudging into view and plops herself down into a nearby chair. She's wrapped herself in what looks like a blanket she's probably swiped from a bed. Her own? Maybe.]
A
[That's all Sheryl gets in the way of greeting, before Pidge comes trudging into view and plops herself down into a nearby chair. She's wrapped herself in what looks like a blanket she's probably swiped from a bed. Her own? Maybe.]