The front desk man who appears to be in his twenties with blonde hair and a pitiful attempt at a mustache, sat still like a deer in the headlights. As the seconds dragged on, I looked around the room to see everyone else in a similar state. Waving my hand in front of him seemed to finally snap him out of his stupor. He swallowed and barely manage to say, "w-we-welcome t-to T-The P-Prophet, Mo- Que- umm-"