Pale fingers wrap around the hilt of the sword and the Outsider offers a slight nod in return before taking it entirely. This, at least, is familiar enough. He wasn't ever classically trained, when he was human, but four thousand years is a long time to watch and learn.

There is just the barest quirk of a smile in Mal's direction before he is moving again, Fade Stepping (Void Stepping, perhaps?) just behind the man, sinking his blade into the body of one of the demons that already has arrows peppering its molten hide. It shrieks and he twists, pulling up toward the 'head', and then withdraws. The demon crumples into ash, still smoldering.

"Is this a common occurrence?" Said in the most idle conversational tone possible.