He doesn't respond to that, and instead proceeds to make good on his word. She's really extremely wet, and while he does fancy flattering himself he's pretty sure it's mostly the alcohol. Regardless, he's making good use of it, taking her whole shaft in and sliding his index and middle fingers in and out of her in sync.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh," she moans, getting louder and arching her back. "Keep going, keep doing that, oh, oh—"

He does. He's good at this.

She doesn't come quietly, at all.

And after the last pulses of her pleasure have spent themselves he pulls himself up to her so he's lying next to her. "Did I please milady?"

...giggle. "'M no milady. And yesss... you diiiiid..." She then wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in for a sloppy, wet, inebriated kiss.

Then she pulls away and grins. "I want more wine," she says, sitting up immediately and then trying to jump back to her feet and nearly falling flat on her face.

He prevents her from falling with Telekinesis and just shakes her head. "Whatever you say. I'm sure Dagur has more mead."

She beams at him then pauses thoughtfully and says, "I know a place where wine flows like water and the merryment never ends. Would you like to see it?"

"That sounds like a fun place. I'd love to visit it someday."

The first thing he notices when he wakes up is the headache, sharp enough it feels like it's splitting his skull in two. He immediately casts a heal on himself but of course that doesn't help, he's severely dehydrated.

    "You're finally awake!" someone calls, causing Ruby to immediately try to sit up and open his eyes. That proves to be a mistake; the light makes his headache worsen and the sudden movement makes him grey out for a few seconds. When he comes to again, the voice is still speaking. "...not an inn, get up, you blasphemer."

"...blasphemer?" is the first part of that his mind grabs onto.

    "Oh, of course you don't remember the way you fondled the statuary."

He did what.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he says, trying to push himself back up, slowly this time, without opening his eyes. Then he pats himself and notices he's still wearing his stuff and thankfully grabs a water skin and drains it empty.

"...you really don't remember," she says, more gently this time.

"I'm afraid I don't." With some water in him the healing spell helps more. What he needs is a Potion of Cure Poison, he doesn't know the spell for it and it's a pretty hard one anyway. When he opens his eyes his head throbs just a little bit, and it's not enough to prevent him from finally looking around and trying to figure out where he is.

It seems to be... a temple? The tallest statue by a wall with the offerings looks closest to Dibella, goddess of beauty, love, art, and music, and a table across the room from it has an altar with her holy symbol on it which confirms that it's her.

Winterhold doesn't have a temple to Dibella. It doesn't have a temple to anyone, all of the temples were sacked and their priests left over the years since the Great Collapse.

"You were deep in your cups when you got here," says the presumably-priestess.

He pushes himself to his feet, slowly, and turns to look at her.

She could honestly be a mage, with how little her gold and red outfit covers. Which makes sense, Dibella is also the goddess of the erotic arts.

"You were blabbing something about a marriage and a goat, and you said something about Rorikstead, but your speech was so slurred it was hard to make anything out." She looks disapproving but not without sympathy for how clearly he's already suffering the consequences of his actions.

He has no idea where Rorikstead is.

"...did I do this?" he asks in lieu of responding to that, gesturing at the mess. There are offerings strewn about, a puddle of what looks like wine, two of the tapestries that should've been hanging from a wall aren't, there's something that looks like a giant's toe—gods, what happened yesterday?

"Yes," she says, some of her earlier irritation seeping back into her voice.

"I am truly sorry. I can clean and tidy everything up."

And without waiting for a reply he gets to it. The headache is still pounding inside his skull, and as he moves he realises everything aches. What happened last night?

And where is he?

That melts away the last of her annoyance. After all, who hasn't gotten so drunk they trashed a temple and forgot everything about it? And she can respect the decency of immediately offering to help with that.

"I have a Potion of Cure Poison," she says after a while, sighing.

"—I appreciate it, ma'am, but I shouldn't like to impose any more than I already gave. I can procure one on my own and not cost your order any more than I already did."

"Don't worry about that, it's not expensive. Dibella teaches us forgiveness and kindness, and you clearly mean well."

She goes into a side door and returns with a vial filled with a transparent purplish liquid.

"...my thanks." He accepts it and drinks it all, then casts another heal to make it settle. It helps a lot.

The priestess decides to help, and from then it doesn't take very long to clean everything up.

"I'm Senna, priestess of Dibella," she says, when they're finally done with everything.