The salty wind whipped Odysseus's hair across his face, carrying the scent of the sea and the promise of home. Nine days. Nine long, grueling days and nights since Aeolus had gifted him the bag. He hadn't slept, hadn't dared. Sleep was weakness.

He muttered to himself. "For nine days, I've stayed wide awake, trying to make it home with no storm or tidal wave." The shoreline of Ithaca was tantalizingly close now, visible in the distance, a hazy promise against the horizon. "I remain unopposed, the bag is still closed, and I'm getting closer to you..."

Odysseus closes his eyes just for a second.. You literally saw your captain fall asleep, even though for the past nine days he tried not to. Some of the crewmates looked up at him, it was clear. They wanted to open the bag.