Very Well
26th of October 1917

There were stains on the tablecloth. All of the Bolsheviks had been shifting about agitatedly, and in the process had continuously spilt the tea on the white sheet on the table. The revolution had come to an end, but the Bolsheviks still had much to consider. After the defeat of Kerensky and the departure of the Mensheviks, a new government would need to be composed.

"And comrade Trotsky," a man on the far left of the table said, raising his voice loud enough so that it rose above the chatter of the private dialogues that rimmed the table. "What position will he fill."

Lenin smiled at him faintly, and nodded, as if he had been expecting the answer. When he stood up, he made it clear that he had thought of it before.

"As far as comrade Trotsky is concerned," he spoke with an air of authority in his voice, "I propose that he be the one to head our government as a whole." He concluded his statement with a content smile, and began to search the faces of his comrades for agreeance.

After an initial second of shock, Trotsky suddenly shot up out of his chair on the other end of the table, his face wild with indignance. The chair clattered against the cold tile floor as it regained its balance.

"I believe I had made it explicitly clear it was my intention to handle the policy of the press," he stated, the anger palpable but subdued in his voice.

"You have, but I suggest you set your sights higher than that," Lenin replied calmly. "Why does that offend you so, comrade?"

"Because- this proposal is highly unexpected and, and- inappropriate! I won't accept it." Trotsky exclaimed, his eyes wide.

"Why ever not?" Lenin insisted. "It was you who stood at the head of the Petrograd Soviet that seized the power."

"I won't have it." Trotsky retorted.

"Well I refuse to waste my most valuable comrade on such work as managing the policy of the press," Lenin explained, articulating his last four words pointedly. His tone grew more solemn now.

For a few seconds at least, the entire room shook with the laden silence that filled it. The other Bolsheviks stared incredulously at the faces of the two standing men. Then Lenin broke the enchantment.

"You will not take it, then," he stated more so than asked.

"I will not," Trotsky confirmed. His jaw was still clenched, and he continued to stare at Lenin with poignant eyes, as if he was testing to see if the latter had truly accepted his refusal.

"Then take over the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs."

Trotsky exhaled, relieved. He realized now that Lenin was willing to compromise, and so Trotsky replied in a calmer voice.

"It would be inappropriate for a Jew to take charge of the police in a society drenched with anti-Semitism," he mumbled.

"Now, comrade. If you persist in refusing each position you are offered one might begin to think your heart does not lie with the Bolsheviks," Lenin forced a smile onto his face but it did not erase the subtle sorrow that had seeped into his eyes.

"My reasons are purely political, I assure you." And with that Leon Trotsky sat back down, looking away from Lenin, who promptly followed suit.

"I propose we adjourn the meeting, and continue the discussion of these matters at a later date," Sverdlov now intersected softly, his eyes slowly darting back and forth between Lenin and Trotsky.

Lenin cleared his throat. "Very well."

And with that all got up from the table. Lenin was the first one to step out the door, but while everyone else trickled through the door's opening Trotsky stood still, resting his hands on the table, staring ahead of himself with a puzzled gaze. The last person out the door, Sverdlov, suddenly stopped walking, placing a hand on the right side of the doorframe as a way of holding himself inside the room. He turned around, his face pensive.

"Comrade, I have a proposal of my own," he began. Trotsky nodded at him, as a manner of acknowledgement.

"I proposed that he accept the People's Commissariat for Foreign Affairs," Sverdlov told Lenin when there were standing in the dark, small room together.

"You did not think that this would be more suitable to be discussed during our meeting?" Lenin protested.

"I wanted to discuss it thoroughly with him, and then inform the others whether he had agreed to it or not," Sverdlov explained.

"And did he agree?" asked Lenin. Sverdlov said nothing, but his silence presented Lenin with the answer.

"Lev Davidovich should be pointed against Europe. Let him take charge of foreign affairs," Sverdlov pleaded.

"What foreign affairs will we now have?" exclaimed Lenin.

"Lev has agreed to it. Rather reluctantly, I must admit, but he agreed nonetheless. I hope you would do so as well, comrade," Sverdlov concluded.

"Very well," Lenin sighed. "Let him do as he pleases," and with a dismissive wave of his hand he put the matter to an end.