Actually, Markus could have been easily killed if he'd done the wrong thing. He and the remaining deviants, and those who were still in camps were surrounded. Connor's arrival would have merely added pressure, and possibly only continued more bloodshed, since he would not try to harm anyone either. Regardless. Connor did not want Markus' position or any position of merit amongst the androids. He would offer all the help and his resources as he could, but he was still...very much different from the rest of them. Save for Markus, who was also an RK prototype.
Feeling a little frustrated with Hank's answer, Connor might have huffed if he knew what that was, instead he merely listened with a frown, arms folded and his led light circling yellow as he analyzed it all internally. He understood Hank's analogy. But a human child who was being sent off to college already had several years of experience being alive. Even school and parental figures for several years to teaching on how to become a productive member of society. One that did not smoke or set hot plates on fire. The closest thing Connor had to all of that was his data on psychology, analysis, and his personal experiences with Hank. The closest thing he had to family. But the android didn't want to fight, and Hank was tired. So he reserved the very long winded, analytical answer he had in store.
He couldn't sigh, so he deflated on the couch beside his friend. "I can build character and also make sure that your arteries don't harden." Connor contended, looking over to what should have been an uncomfortable position, Sumo already snugly snoozing in the corner of the room. "There's a bed, you know." Just pointing that out there. In case Hank wanted to be comfortable. But Connor looked down to his white button down and realized it could be considered a bit formal. He was, unfortunately, no longer a part of the Detroit police. Maybe someday he would be allowed to be again.
"Different clothes might be...nice." He tried to be open to the idea, though the only time he wore different clothing was a disguise to fit in. Connor had no idea what he would like to wear that was not his suit jacket and tie. His face did contort some at the idea of being drawn on with a sharpie. "They don't have access to my programming or current memory anymore, but that's fair. Maybe something else other than the marker though..."