Peeves apparently is being a little worse than usual. I wouldn't really know; I'm only judging from what I've heard complaints of. The Bloody Baron hovers over the Slytherin table, so we're really quite well-protected-- as we ought be. The school knows where its gold comes from. She smirked up at the bloody ghost, seeming not to notice the unappetizing quality to him.
She sighed and glanced over to the Hufflepuff table, where Myrtle sat, and sniffed. Then she said aloud, to no one in particular, "Some folks really ought to do being more diplomatic about their complaints. There are prefects to be seen to, and professors to discuss matters with. Simply complaining to one's self does very little."
She took a dainty bite off of her fork, and returned to observing-- and judging-- the students around her.