"He looked dirtier than a hobo swimming through liquidated garbage!" Nimi said in her defense.
"That's Emilio's business. Don't try and bathe him in public, for Bahamut's sake!" Finir put out a palm toward Emilio and started to absorb the sprayed salt water from his clothes. "Well, anyways, it's good to see you, Emilio. There, that should do it." The water absorbed from Emilio's clothes was in the form of a tiny sphere, which the azure dragon tossed to the side. The sand seemed to quickly phase out the small contribution of drought relief.
"Oh, come on, Finir," Nimi objected, "Don't you think that whatever greater being designed Emilio and the rest of his kind wouldn't want to see him this dirty? I could care less if he looked sloppy. Heck, he looks sloppy now! But he at least could be clean and sloppy, y'know? I hate it when people are dirty!"
"If Emilio wants you to give him a bath, that's up to him," Finir said. "For now, drop it. We have other things to think about than the vanity and cleanliness of others..."
"...This is why the seas are so polluted..." Nimi mumbled to herself. As she sulked, Finir formally greeted Emilio by shaking his tiny hand with an enormous claw.
"So, what are you doing out here on your lonesome?"
Pinkie Pool's archnemesis: Oatmeal.