You know what? You're right and like 99.9% of these prompts on any given weekend do tend to be supermassive based, so as always just consider this a free space from little old me to write six-sentences about whatever fandom/series your heart desires 😘

In retrospect, she should've known - there was no such thing as a normal question in the FBC, or if there was, it was a self-contained sort of normal, a private language she'd be lucky to decipher before she turned ninety-five - even so, Jesse couldn't help feeling like Emily was overreacting.

The face she was making made it seem like she'd asked her for nuclear launch codes, not something as benign as, "You guys ever try fitting more than six people into one of those?" when passing one of the Bureau's many safety shelters and its ominous occupancy warning.

"I...no, that...it's out of the question, absolutely out of the question," Emily said, shaking herself out of her shock and back into the real world, "I understand where you're coming from, really, but after extensive in situ testing, it was categorically decided that six is the absolute maximum number of occupants a black rock bunker can safely protect from a House shift - more than that, and...well, the results...leave something to be desired, let's say that."

Behind her eyes, Polaris pulsed a shimmer of light that pressed down on her tongue like a question mark, and before she could stop herself from digging any deeper into this particular hole, Jesse asked, "...meaning...?"

Peeking up from the pages pasted to her clipboard like some sort of nervous bird, Emily flashed her an anxious smile, then beckoned she come closer after glancing both ways up and down the hall; "Once," she whispered, her lack of volume doing nothing to hide her academic glee, "just as a shift was happening, a group of seven people ducked into a shelter to wait it out, and when the door opened again...total...organ...transposure - all of their vital organs had swapped, completely irrespective of blood type, and the fallout...oh Jesse, the fallout was...terrible." She lowered her eyes back to her clipboard, shaking her head somberly, and then the mask broke and she let out a deceptively girlish little giggle, waving the idea off as she laughed, "I'm kidding of course, they all self-immolated, seven synchronous cases of spontaneous human combustion, we vacuumed up the ash and studied it for months, though."

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!