Upon settling into his chair, Dexter had taken all of a moment to glimpse his incoming texts, scanning the photo Elizabeth had sent over that afternoon. A photo of his client, dressed sharply but comfortably, with an expression and pose properly suited for the inside of a book jacket. Some sort of scholar, perhaps; Elizabeth hadn't elaborated much on his background, not that it mattered. Her recommendation had been more than enough to bring Dexter out that evening.<br/><br/>Dexter had made the slightest dent in his drink when a voice drew him out of his thoughts, pulling his eyes up to address the source. Book Jacket Man. He looked just as impassive as his photo had indicated, although perhaps a bit more easy on the eyes in person. If Dexter had to guess, he would have assumed him to be in his late twenties, well-educated, and more to the point, well-off. The escort wasn't exactly hurting for money, but he knew an opportunity when he saw one, and one had just reached out to shake his hand.<br/><br/>Without missing a beat, Dexter stood to greet the man, extending a hand to shake. "Mr. Smithe," he returned, lips turning up in a smile that didn't fall short on charm. "Dexter. Please." Gesturing broadly for the other man to sit, he followed suit shortly thereafter, shifting to cross his long legs and observing the man across from him as he started in on his motive for their meeting.<br/><br/>No nonsense. Right to business. Xavier clearly had no desire to waste any time with formalities, which was something Dexter could respect. Despite the nature of his profession, he was first and foremost a businessman, and time was money. If nothing else, Xavier could take some semblance of satisfaction in knowing that he was not a man likely to take offense to clipped words or a lack of pretense. Just the opposite, in fact, for this told Dexter exactly what he could expect.<br/><br/>"This is you being rude?" he queried, the half-smile never truly fading from his face. "Well, I suppose if I<i>must</i>adjust my expectations..." Dexter knew immediately that Xavier hadn't come to purchase his charm, nor his natural gift for seduction. If Elizabeth's hints hadn't told him so, then Xavier's demeanor certainly had. Nonetheless, it simply wasn't in his nature to switch that part of himself off. Not even slightly.<br/><br/>"Go ahead, Mr. Smithe," he prompted, raising his glass just high enough to catch a whiff of the scotch inside, pausing long enough for a quick swallow that burned his throat. "I'm listening."