Rhal was much more interested in giving advice than bathing. He felt himself a top-tier advisor, cerebral and compassionate.
But, ugh. Baths. Dragonborn didn't stink. They needed a good wire-brushing, a nail-trim and some scale-shaping if one was vain, but they didn't need to go jumping in a little artificial puddle to leave behind the residue of the world. That residue was his. He earned it. It was the dust of his travels, a coating of his experiences. Why wash it away?
Yet, when in the Fifth City you comported yourself as a citizen, and there was some ceremony and human bonding that occurred during a soak in a tub. It would be expected of him to take the whole ordeal causally, chat with the smiling Korgon about... wenches or ale or hunting, Rhal was sure, and do so in only his skin, as if that was natural.
So Rhal stripped down, fell into a tub and chatted with Korgon. He felt no bonding. Water must evoke some sort of calming influence on humans, increasing their friendliness and warming their bones. All Rhal could feel was wet and uncomfortable.
As soon as Korgon felt it suitable to leave, Rhal did the same, clumsily falling out of the tub, throwing on a tunic and trousers and returning to the common room. Still dripping, he found Amisi immediately. "Tell me of this advice you seek," he asked.