Yes, types. There's... quite a few of them. Fifteen? I don't remember exactly, but Poison was definitely one of them. It was one of the stranger ones so I remembered it specifically.

[What is a squirt bottle even what are you talking about.] What; a perfume bottle? I don't follow. [He taps his fingers on the arm of the chair, thinking about the problem. Obviously they can't have a toxic bipedal frog running around causing mischief. That just seems... irresponsible.]

And what do you mean, is he a dude? [You are just lucky Thomas hasn't pulled out any Victorian slang. 'Course most of that cant en't fit for the delicate ears of buors or chavies, and he'd only break it out spreading flats in a lushery.] It's too bad N isn't here; he'd... [He waves his hand, not really sure what N would do.] Tell him to stop, I suppose. They listen to him.