George was overwhelmed with emotion, something she was not particularly good at dealing with. Like a small child demanding a band aid for her scraped knee for its magical healing and pain negating powers, the reaper trekked her way toward the hospital. She didn't speak very much to the cat, unsure if it was simply George's unstable desperation for company.
Instead she said muttered, shouted and sighed the word fuck an inexhaustible number of times.
The City, however, directed the reaper in a completely direction. Instead of a hospital George was less than a block away watching Hannibal Lector trying to find a building. She saw the zombie come from behind. The reaper went as far to open her mouth in warning only to stop.
She frowned, and shoved her hands into her pockets with a sigh. She watched him run. She decided to approach the small swarm of undead. "HEY. OVER HERE. Mmm. Fresh meat! This way."
George hopped up and down, waving her arms above her head to attract their attention. At first they ignored her but eventually the noise started to attract their attention. Though not all of them would follow her, many did and after enough jumping and shouting she had a good portion of them going in a direction away from where the cannibal ducked into.
She couldn't say why she did it. It was a little late to do any good. The reaper just wanted to feel like she was doing something.