If Dexter was anything at all, he was an unapologetic gold digger, which made him especially prone to noticing when a man had money to burn. He had known Xavier was one such man within moments of laying eyes on him, taking in the style of his shoes, the clothes that looked fitted rather than plucked off department store racks. But by far more telling was his wallet which, by anyone's standards, had considerable bulk to it. Given that Xavier was a friend of Elizabeth's, he didn't suppose that wallet had gotten its size from rewards cards. No, the bulk came from cash.<br/><br/>Two thousand pounds, he found, as Xavier laid out his terms. Two evenings, one thousand pounds each. Even for Dexter, one thousand a night was quite a sum if he was not expected to provide sexual services. All Xavier wanted was a man to pass off as his boyfriend, it seemed, to discourage intrusive family members from prying into his personal life. It was not an unreasonable request, he supposed, and it definitely wouldn't have been the first time he provided that sort of thing. Granted, for one thousand pounds, any other client would have expected dinner with the family plus a night in bed - but not Xavier. He wasn't in this for pleasure, only a little peace of mind. What was wrong with that?<br/><br/>If this told Dexter anything, it was that Xavier wasn't concerned about appearances, but he<i>was </i>concerned about appearances. The escort had not missed the way the other man had flinched upon hearing the door creak open, nearly as though he was afraid to be seen. Or at the very least, afraid to be seen with<i>him</i>. It mattered little in the great scheme of things, but it was telling. Appearances mattered. Dexter could respect that.<br/><br/>"Just to clarify," he muttered, the silky tone never fully leaving his voice, "what you want is a boyfriend to show your family. A plus one to dance with you at the reception, straighten your tie, maybe give you a kiss or two when you're sure they're looking. And no sex, for two thousand?" Even then, Dexter didn't look at the money, only at Xavier, as though to see if he had any other stipulations. Two thousand seemed excessive for two nights of no sex, but it seemed the man was serious. All he wanted was a temporary boyfriend.<br/><br/>After a few long moments, it seemed that Dexter was satisfied. Uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, placing his drink on the table between them, he swept up his payment and tucked the bills into an inside jacket pocket. "It would be my pleasure to be your date for the wedding," he agreed at length, grin widening in the slightest as he sat back, observing the man opposite him. Some part of him still felt as though Xavier had paid far too much for such simple services, but he was not the sort to question a good thing.<br/><br/>"If I'm to be your devoted boyfriend," Dexter mentioned, "I'll need to know a bit about you. Or, well, about<i>us</i>. We'll be needing a bit of history to make things believable, if anyone should ask how we met, how long we've been dating, and so on. Ah. And..." Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew an embossed white card emblazoned only with a contact number - a mobile number reserved for use with his clients. This he slid across the table to Xavier. "You'll need this. Your two thousand buys you two days of my time, but I'll take calls or messages anytime if you have any instructions for me."