Eames laughed. "A little more excitement in his life? Well, I suppose this isn't the kind of place the two of your are used to. Not as many parties, not as much- anything, I guess." Eames didn't actually know what life was like in the 1920s, but he knew a lot about Gatsby and his parties. Because he read. Well, he'd read Nick's book, and he had to say he was a little bit convinced that Nick was in love with Gatsby. But it wasn't his place to say anything about that.
"I was injured," Eames nodded. "Yes. I was. Badly. I had to have a lot of operations, a lot of- I was in hospital for a year. But I suppose I'm fortunate. I- well, I suppose if I'd have been born in your time I wouldn't have survived it." And that was seriously honest. But he didn't- well, he didn't want sympathy or to sound too dramatic. "But I'm glad, for you and Nick that is. That you're settling in. If you need help with anything you can always call. I'm very rarely doing anything too exciting. And yeah, yes, very open-minded. You can be anyone you want to be here. Which is lovely. And there's so much love going around. Different species, people who have never met before. I suppose it's all very different to where you're from-"
No, no, he wasn't hitting on Gatsby. He would just enjoy looking at him. He couldn't make any kind of implication that would take away from Nick's really rather obvious interest.