After giving it a moment of consideration, Mordechai made his way to the last car after Archer, putting his bag in first and following it, cramming himself into the backseat like a clown car in reverse. Even pushed up against the doorframe, he still took up his seat and a portion of the middle seat, and he had to hunch his shoulders to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. From the neutrally resigned look on his face, this was such a common occurrence that he had long since ceased to worry about it.