[Definitely not a Russian assassin. She was Italian.]
[Zatanna didn't watch many of that particular genre either, but she knew the cliche. And knew he most likely knew too. Question was, of course, whether or not he knew she knew he knew. Which left a lot of unknowns. Fine with her; made things more exciting.]
[All of this was conveyed in a single,fleeting glance back at her soon-to-be ride partner, before she "innocently" reached for his hand to encourage him along. Without explanation. The ride itself was about five or six minutes long, given the sheer size of the wheel, but it only took a few seconds for a new seat to be available. The line moved quickly because of this, and soon enough, they were sitting side by side, being lifted into the air.]
[In her partial defense--like she really needed by now--Zatanna really did want to capture the view. The Wheel had always been one of her favorite rides, cliches aside, simply because it was another way of flying. One where she didn't have to concentrate. She could just lean forward, pressing her arms lightly against the edge, and look down over the entire festival as the people below got smaller and smaller.]