Some he just wiped clean until they were as empty as plates. The weak ones, the surprised ones, the ones that just didn't know. He'd smile with their lips, watch their crumbling bodies with their eyes and congratulate himself for a new addition to his collection.
Others were trickier and taunted him with their forced composure. He would watch, wait, turn, and then strike, goring through flesh, laughing to himself as they screamed. He wouldn't mar his prize, oh no, he struck below, stopping pulse and breath as he consumed their rage, their shock.
Sometimes, Koh preferred his claws.