The question of "who?" very nearly comes out automatically but he manages to bite it back as, after a beat, his thoughts actually catch up with his mouth. "Oh, hi. Um, no. Not really." He pauses a moment to see what his free hand is up to and it stops, the inspiration gone. All that's left is a bone-deep ache from far too much time spent gripping a paint brush.
He drops the brush in question into a cup of dirty water and flexes his fingers as he tucks his phone in between shoulder and ear so he can carry a portion of his mess to the sink for some cleaning. "I should probably take a break anyway. I don't think I'm actually feeling my fingers anymore." Said appendages are run under water for a little while in hopes of regaining some degree of less painful sensation as he skips topics to admit. "I'm not really used to phonecalls. Sorry it took a minute to hear you."